Listen, Children
by Nea's world
Summary: Nana tells the story of a spoiled elven prince who eventually became king and fell in love to the elf children sitting around her at night. Follows a general Tolkien timeline. Feel free to RR!
1. In the Early Years

General disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's. Sorry. Anything of his isn't mine, so don't think it is. 

Otherwise, enjoy!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Would you like to hear a story, children? If so, gather around and I shall tell you a story about—"

"Legolas!" The younger girl chirped up, her blond hair glowing in the slight light of the moon since she was sitting closest to the window, obviously reserving the window seat for later, as the story wore on.

"Prince Legolas," her older sister countered, tucking her knees to the side as a true lady should. She was sitting on the floor in front of my bed. 

Their brother sat upon it with a small frown upon his finely boned face which was held in his hands, his elbows resting lightly on his crossed knees. "Do you know any stories about Legolas?"

"My darling child, I know all the stories there are to know about the prince. After all, I was there from the time he was born, was I not?"

The three siblings looked dubiously at each other, the eldest at least wondering if her stories would ever be told to young ones. They would. 

"Will you tell us?" the first girl asked, twining a piece of her hair around her delicate fingers.

"Ah, but do you want a true tale, or one made up?" 

My question seemed to amuse them, for they had never thought to apply the rules of our little game to a story about Legolas, or any other elf of high standing. We would play this quite often, really, where I would tell them all about an elf they didn't know, or about the times when the elf was younger, and when I had run out of stories or tales, they would guess if there had been anything of truth in the telling. Other times I told them about the world they didn't know and the great and amazing things that had happened then, but I was in an epic mood tonight.

The eldest of the three ran a hand through her long hair, frowning slightly at a little piece of leaf that had gotten tangled there earlier in her play with her siblings out in the woods. She plucked it out and began searching for others, eventually letting the shimmering mass settled behind her in satisfaction. 

The little boy's slight frown remained, so like his father's that it brought a smile to my lips. He looked up, his gaze surprisingly steady and piercing, a trait both his parent's now possessed, but his which his mother had perfected much earlier in her youth than their father, and than any of her children. But she was an interesting elf in her own right. "Let us guess," he decided, his sister chiming in enthusiastically with sparkling eyes while the eldest shrugged a shoulder with a disinterested air that didn't fool me for a moment. 

"All right then. Let me think where I should start, and how I should start." Should I go from the point of view of a single elf, or shift around? And, should I tell them truly or not? So many choices, I mused to myself, it was almost unfair to be forced to make them so quickly with the dear children watching me so eagerly, even the eldest, though she was beginning to feel she should stop acting like a child as she neared her thousandth year. "All right, I think I have it figured out," I inform them, looking at the fire that bronzed their left sides and struck off copper lights in their hair. "In the days when elves still lived on Middle-Earth, there was a King, and his Queen. They loved each other very much and were soon blessed with many children, but this tale is an account of the eldest, and how he eventually found himself wanting to be married to the one elf he could ever truly love…" I trailed off, partially for dramatic effect, but mostly to make them squirm with impatience. I waited a tad too long though, something I always used to find a problem with Legolas when I told him stories.

"And her name is—"

"Shush!" the girl at the window cried quickly, silencing her brother who had started rocking slightly on his ankles as he tried, unsuccessfully, to wait. "Don't tell us her true name, nana, please? Let us guess without having that thrown in as well, since we well know who he did marry." 

Everyone did, since we were in the havens. If we were still on Middle-Earth, it would have been different, in many ways. 

I smiled at the dear children, and rearranged my skirt so I could clasp my hands in my lap, pretending sedateness though I was truly ready to lean forward or express a point with body movements, things they would forget having seen me do, for as far as storytellers go, I was one of the best, and they would soon see what I told them….

Clearing my throat I began again. "On the other shores…"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

In the days when elves still lived on Middle-Earth there was a young elf girl named Salan. She had been born in the palace of Mirkwood, for her mother was the Queen's best friend, and they had moved into the palace together when the queen became the queen. 

When Salan had reached an age where she was able to find her way home again without too much trouble, she and the only child of the King and Queen at the time were sent out to spend time together, exploring the forest, as is the way of all elf children when they are so young, but not quite mere children. 

She knew it was the way of things, and since they were the only children in the palace, she knew there was no hope for a different playmate. She was resigned to her fate, hoping her mother or the Queen would be blessed with a pregnancy soon, for Legolas was not resigned in the least!

It irritated him to no end that a she-elf was following him around when he was finally able to explore on his own, without a royal guard or a nurse following him around. He would often simply not inform her he was leaving, but she was young, and did not understand why he disliked having her along. 

Whenever he would return home after such trips, her face would be red along with her eyes, and one look at her mottled complexion was all he needed to see to know he was in trouble. He would purse his lips together and wait with resignation, knowing it was inevitable. Soon both of his parents would be berating him for leaving her behind. His pleas to be released from having her as a playmate fell on deaf ears, for they felt their only child should have some one to play with.

They were right, of course, and once in a while he enjoyed her company, but she was nearly two hundred years his junior, so most of the time he would simply leave her behind, sometimes being kind enough about it she wouldn't cry and inform their parents what he had done. 

Salan merely hated being left behind because there was very little for her to do in the palace. The books in the library were all too stuffy to hold her attention for long, and she wanted to be outside, exploring, just as did he. Their nana would not tell them stories until bed time, because that was when tales were meant to be told, so children could think about them with a smile, either dreaming about how nice it was, or how much better it was in the real world that they knew. 

Still, after a while her sense caught up with her, and she became a little bit devious herself, for she was a fast learner and Legolas was not a cautious teacher in such at the time. One day while Legolas was out riding, having ditched her once more, she snuck into his room and 'borrowed' a pair of leggings, a shirt and a tunic. These she took to her room, changing quickly before adding a cloak to her apparel. 

Then, she went exploring! Oh, the things she saw and the fun she had! It was no wonder Legolas did not wish her to come along! She would be loath to share this beauty and glory with anyone herself.

But she would have shared, no matter what, _because_ it was beautiful. Delight would have been hers for being able to show such a pleasure filled sight to anyone else. Such is the way of all good elves, and though she was a wood-elf, Salan had been brought up as a lady despite her wood-elf blood, and her parents were both unusually wise for wood-elves. Some say they no longer counted as such, but the love the family always felt for the forests negated any such arguments someone may have had.

So Salan sat upon the ground in her discovered place and contemplated what to do about the spoiled brat of a prince whom she had to have along when she went exploring to make her parents happy. Quite obviously she would eventually be caught wearing his leggings no matter ho hard she tried to avoid it, and wearing such was something all 'ladies' never did. Still, she was young, and she knew she would be allowed to continue to use them, or a similar form of clothing once she explained how much easier it was to ride. Of course, she would have to try that out before using that claim, but that little particular didn't slow her thoughts down, not one little bit!

She made up her mind that she would go with him, dressed as she was, whether he liked it or not! Her age of extreme youth was gone, and she was nearing her learning years, granting her strength and resolve to stand up for what she wanted. She had had none before, resorting to tears to get some satisfaction from seeing Legolas squirm. No longer. She would accompany him as she was supposed to, but that would take a while. 

After all, he had been leaving her behind on a regular basis for nearly fifty years. Of course, she had not fought back. Her wood-elf blood brought her resolve, making her eyes flash brightly as she sat cross-legged at the edge of the forest. She would accompany him, one way or another!

Legolas never knew of her resolve, he just ran lightly down the steps the next morning, intending to go on a morning ride with Ailin, the white horse his father had given him on his eight hundredth birthday. Only when he got there, there Salan was, already astride her chestnut mare, wearing male clothing that looked suspiciously familiar. "Where do you think you are going?" he asked, scowling because he already was pretty sure of the answer.

"With you, of course," she retorted, patting her mare's neck. 

"No, you aren't."

"Watch me, princy," she snapped right back at him, surprising him into shutting up for a while. After all, the Salan he was used to loosing before he left the palace had never spoken to him in such a way.

"My name is Prince Legolas."

"Only when you earn the title. You are nothing more than a selfish child," she murmured calmly, laughing delightedly when her mare bobbed her head in agreement. 

Legolas was far from laughing. "I am older than you." In his opinion, he was too much older than was she to be saddled with the annoyance of her young company. 

"But far less wise. The day is passing us. Shall we never leave the stables?"

"You may do as you wish, but you are not going with me."

"Must we have the same tired argument you have been hounding your poor father with for the last half century? You are not going to get rid of me so easily any longer. I wish to know Mirkwood from beyond the palace walls. Our parents have decreed we must only do such explorations with each other or a guard. It is hard to enjoy anything with a guard watching your every move, as you well know, besides which they have more important things to do. At least if we ignore each other but stay in visual and auditory range we shall satisfy their desires and our own."

Without waiting for a response, she spoke softly to Tinyal, and the mare quickly trotted into the bright spring morning. Legolas looked after her with a stunned blink, not knowing quite what to think about this unfamiliarly strong willed she-elf. Still, he was determined not to let her ruin the day, so he quickly mounted Ailin and rode out, sure he could lose her somewhere in such a way she could still find her way back to the palace without becoming lost. While he may not want her along, he wished her no harm, even if she seemed not only to have found her tongue but had it sharpened as well. 

For the next several years, a few decades in fact, Legolas tried everything he could think of to get her to stay away from him so he could enjoy the forest on his own. He even resorted to locking her in a closet on one occasion, so angered and annoyed was he by being forced to endure her company that the slight good manners his father had managed to instill in him were entirely lost. 

When he returned as the sun began to fall over the trees, he cleaned quickly for supper, frowning when he took his place and found the cause of his annoyance and the lack of enjoyment in his day was not sitting across from him as usual. In fact, he didn't see her anywhere. 

He was not about to ask, though, so he let the music and conversation lift the wonder from his mind. Soon, as the meal was finished, he heard his father speaking to her father. His name was being mentioned, which was why he had started listening.

"Legolas?"

"Yes Father?" he asked at once. 

"Did Salan accompany you?"

"No, Father. She wished to do something else," he lied without a qualm, for he knew when lies were acceptable. Saving his own skin seemed acceptable. "Why, Father?"

"She has not been seen since the morning meal," his father murmured, a frown drawing his brows together in a stern look which Legolas had seen too often directed at him though it was thankfully not aimed at him this time. The king then looked up, and told a passing elf a search was to be made. 

The four adult elves, her parents and his, remained at the table, worry and concern for the missing elf written plainly in their eyes, though they had had too much experience with molding their faces into a calm expression to show their emotions clearly on their faces. 

Legolas looked at them, swallowing after a long silence. Surely she had been let out of the closet before now. So she must be hiding somewhere to get him in trouble. His eyes narrowed at the thought and he suddenly found himself volunteering to help find her. He was waved away, and started in the places he would guess she had gone, little places they had found when they were very young and still forced to play in the palace. She hadn't spoken much, so he hadn't minded her so much then. But when the chance came for him to explore Mirkwood, there was no way he was going to take a baby she-elf with him!

Firming his resolve he could outlast her desire to explore, he checked the library, then the gardens that were built into the mountain, carefully searching each and every tree top for a sign of her. She had quickly become a better climber than he was, probably because that was the only way she had to escape him when he began pulling her braids to get her to leave him alone.

Despite his previous recollection of being nice to her when they were both stuck inside, since he thought he would have nearly two hundred years to explore outside before she was allowed to join him, he never really had been that nice to her. Being the only child of the only ruler he had been spoiled terribly, and he had never learned to share. 

Alas, she simply was not in the gardens, so he started to go to his nana's room, but thought better of it, turning away before he got close enough for her to hear him coming. That old she-elf had an uncanny ability for picking up on things. Instead he went down to the closet he had locked Salan in and quickly picked up the key which hung about a ribbon on the door, turning it in the lock. 

He was startled to see Salan lying in there, her hair intricately bound back, small braids combining and twisting together to form a sort of headdress before they fell over the rest of her hair. Since she was obviously alone in the room, the work was the result of hours. _She had been in there the whole time?_

A pang of guilt smote him, and he hesitated in the doorway. She was asleep, stretched out on two crates she had pulled together, her knees drawn up and her body bent so she could fit on the small, rough-hewn wooden things that had been sent to the palace from the men down the river. One arm was crooked under her head, the other had dropped off the edge some time during her slumber. 

He had assumed she would be found within an hour. Less, probably. He had ridden as quickly out of the view of the palace as he could for that very thought. Yet she had remained in here all day, and a good part of the night as well. "Salan?"

She blinked, her eyes eventually focusing on him. She slowly pushed herself into a sitting position, wincing slightly as she did so. She looked at him for an instant before moving to tend to her palm, which had several obvious and rough splinters in it. More slivers littered her clothing where she had been against the crates, and he felt another pang.

"Many have been searching the palace for you, myself included."

"That confirms you have not the brains you were given," she spoke softly, without heat as she concentrated on plucking the slivers of wood from her arms once she had finished with her palms. "You should have looked where you put me."

"I expected you would be let out at once."

"I may have been, if ever an elf had walked by." She looked up at him, blinked. "How far is the day along?"

"It is finished, long since. It is time for nana to be wrapping up her story for the night."

She sighed softly and rested her hand against her stomach. He could hear it growl as she did so, and felt guilty once more. "I shall be off to the kitchens, then."

"First you must see our parents so they know you are safe."

She looked up at him, her eyes fathomless. Finally she nodded and sighed again, before slowly getting up, pushing her slightly more feminine tunic down to her knees, wincing slightly before returning to pick at her palm. Without a word she followed slowly behind him as he returned to the dining hall.

That walk was torture for Legolas. He wanted to know what she was going to say, but he knew what to expect, both from her and then from his father when he found out what happened. He said nothing, though, knowing he deserved punishment though he had truly believed she would be released quickly.

They were being impatiently awaited before they arrived, for several of the other searchers had seen her and reported that the prince had found her. He swallowed and moved aside, remaining near the door as if the escape would be allowed him. 

"My daughter!" her mother cried, getting up to enfold her in a tight embrace before her father did the same. "Where were you hiding?" she scolded sternly, despite the relief that shown in her eyes.

"I was not hiding, Mother," she replied. "I was stuck in a closet."

"Stuck in a closet?" Thranduil asked, dumbfounded. "How did that happen?"

Legolas cringed, waiting for her to proclaim his death sentence. She smiled a little self-depreciatingly and lowered her eyes from the king's, a slight blush creeping into her cheeks. "I was looking for a snack to take with me to the library, and someone closed the door, locking it and moving away before I gathered my wits enough to call out that I was in there. No one walked by after that, until Legolas found me."

Four pairs of eyes looked at him, those of their mothers almost immediately returning to her hair, which they touched with soft murmurs of approval and wonder. Most elves simply could not have created such a design on their own heads, no matter how many hours they had to do so. Their fathers, though, kept looking at him. 

He was surprised into utter silence at her words, for there was no way she didn't know he was the one who locked the door on her. After all, he had grabbed her by the arm and shoved her inside, slamming the door on her before locking it, leaving her be despite the calls he heard through the heavy wooden door. 

"Thank you for finding my daughter, Legolas," her father spoke after a moment, a small smile coming over his face.

"No thanks necessary," he managed stiffly, bowing his head slightly before walking quickly off to his room, at every moment expecting Thranduil to call him back and punish him. 

That night he replayed everything from when he found her to when he left the dining hall over and over in his head. He kept seeing the calm, sincere way she had lied to their parents, the lie allowing him to remain safe, though he didn't deserve to be. 

The next morning, he took her with him into the forest, missing the small smile Salan let play on her lips. She was beginning to break his spoiled shell, get to the elf that was meant to be that was trapped beneath it. 

Without being aware of it, she had done exactly what their parents had hoped she would. Legolas, being the only prince of the only ruler, had been spoiled awfully, as I mentioned before. Salan, on the other hand, had sat with her mother and the queen on numerous occasions, and knew what it meant to be not only a lady but a good one, and had learned early small sparks of wisdom others her age would not even have recognized as such. 

She was influencing him, merely by being herself, with a bit of wood-elf spirit thrown in, along with the innocence of youth she still retained, leaving her not in the least awed of his title. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Legolas was never a spoiled brat!" the boy declared as I trailed off slightly. "I can tell right now this is all a bunch of fake stories." His face was comically poised between a frown and a pout. 

"How would you know what Legolas was like when he was so young he didn't even have any siblings? None of us were even thought of then." The eldest stated, her tone irritated. She liked the character Salan, and had smiled faintly when I first gave her the name, undoubtedly guessing the source. Still, she found the subject of the stories one she was willing to hear about, so she defended the tale quickly and with fervor. "You cannot claim to know anything until you have all the information you can possibly possess." 

I smiled slightly. Just like her mother… well, to a degree. Her mother was never quite as… carefully elegant. "I think that is enough for tonight."

The middle child looked up, pleading in her eyes as she frowned. "But, nana, surely there is so much more you could tell us tonight…"

"I plan to tell you all there is to know, my darling little one, but little elves need their sleep. Just as old ones do," I added, feeling some need for rest myself. "I shall continue the story tomorrow, do not fret, my dears."

She sighed heavily, making her older sister smile. Their brother scowled at me, still determined that he knew the eventual outcome, and so not very interested in filling his head with stories about Legolas of Mirkwood that simply were not true. 

"Good night, nana," the eldest murmured, stooping to kiss my cheek before she waited at the door for her siblings to do the same. Then they went together down the hall, the eldest pulling my door shut behind them. I could hear her telling her brother to be quiet for a while, but then the soft closing of the doors to their separate rooms cut off their conversation and my ability to hear them. 

With a soft smile I prepared for bed, trying to decide where to go next in my tale.


	2. Terror and Torment

Authors note: Warning in advance, I will have no computer access until April, so this is it for a while. A short while, but a while for those of you who are impatient.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They changed positions tonight as they came in to sit before me. The eldest sat in the window seat, her head back so she could see the stars as well as me by simply moving her eyes, the fire's warmth not reaching her enough to make removing her night cloak a good idea. The middle child was resting on her stomach on my bed, her arms folded beneath her, her feet dangling in the air. Their little brother sat on the floor in front of the bed, leaning his head back from time to time to see his sisters. The girl on the bed would sometimes play in his hair, braiding small pieces of the silvery blond hair until his entire crown was captured in plaits.

"Now, where was I?" I asked, not because I had forgotten, but because I wished them to tell me, so I knew how well they had listened, and how they were disposed towards the story tonight. Sometimes I had to change my story for a night, or simply not tell them one because something had happened in the between time that made them unwilling to listen. I was not going to waste my breath only to have them ask me all about it again the next night.

The boy chirped up, much to my surprise. His sisters must have gotten to him a little, for he had to force the boredom into his voice. "He had just gotten her out of the closet," he explained dully.

"No, she was telling us why Salan and Legolas were sent to spend time together in the first place," his sister retorted, dropping another braid back against his head. "Were they betrothed?"

The eldest rolled her eyes, not bothering to turn her head to see her young siblings. "They did not betroth children then, you silly elf child."

"Didn't they nana?"

"Yes they did," I agreed, getting the eldest to look at us in surprise.

The younger stuck her tongue out at her sister, who rolled her eyes and turned her head to the window, the perfect picture of casual indifference. 

"But not for princes or princesses. Even when a betrothal was made, it was always in the power of the young ones to call it off if they wished."

A small smirk crossed the elder's face, but, knowing it was unladylike to brag, she said nothing, continuing her watch of the stars and moon, welcoming the halo that glowed on her cast silver hair.

"Get on with it, nana," he implored impatiently, squirming a bit as his sister picked up another section of hair, not wanting all of his hair to end up braided as it had once not long ago. He had forgotten about the braids until the next morning, and had only the time to undo them before he had to go to breakfast with his hair crinkled and fluffy…very undignified, even for an elf child. 

"Don't be rude," his sister snapped from the window.

He sighed. "Please, nana?" he pleaded with me, using his large bright eyes.

I smiled. "Very well. Now then… Oh, yes. He let her go into the forest…"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Prince Legolas allowed Salan to ride into the forest with him, but he was not always perfectly congenial to her company. Though he had learned something about being nice, he was far from being the kind hearted elf you all know and love today. Youth was still its blinding self, drawing about him in a thick cloak of self-assuredness that bordered on cockiness. 

Sometimes he would do whatever he could to torment her, merely for the sake of reminding her he did not really want her along. His inspiration came one day from seeing her stomp on a small spider in the palace halls before she turned to walk down the hall to the dining hall.

A wicked grin spread over his face as he recalled often seeing her go wide eyed at seeing a spider, either killing it quickly or simply walking out of the room, refusing to go back. _Ah, he thought, _revenge can be so sweet_. _

Because of the evil things that lived in the forest of Mirkwood, the children were not supposed to travel very far into it, certainly not to the point where the darkness covered the path. That they could do when they were much older, and had been well trained in the art of archery and sword play. But at that time, though they both wore a sword, neither knew well how to use one. 

Thoughts of the danger did not enter his mind, just thoughts of the sweet revenge he would inflict upon his often unwanted companion. He led his horse deeper into the forest than they were supposed to go, knowing well the thoughts that would be swimming in her head. It was common, even natural for all elves to feel disgust and maybe even fear when thinking on the giant spiders that lived in the dark hollows of the forests, or even on the orcs who occasionally wandered beneath the black boughs.

Salan and her horse paced restlessly at the edge of the darker woods, knowing quite well that they were not to go this far into the forest. Still, the fear of being left behind so close to the edge, and maybe a little well-placed concern for the prince led her into the darkness, though thoughts of those spiders, so much larger than was she, made her tremble in sheer terror. 

She knew he was doing it merely to torment her, but she could no more ride back and inform the king that she had left his only son and heir traveling deeper into the darkness of Mirkwood than she could shake the shudders that wracked her frame when she thought about coming close to those hideous creatures every elf that came upon them did their best to slaughter. Those spiders, and orcs, of course, were the only creatures upon which the elves of Mirkwood had no mercy. The dark creatures felt the same way about the elves. 

Trying to suppress another shudder she urged Tinyal into the darkness, her ears soon picked up on the soft hoof beats of Ailin even as her eyes picked up his trail. Swallowing hard when the sound of steps stopped, she urged Tinyal faster, despite the nervousness the horse had picked up from her rider. 

They came upon Legolas and Ailin standing still, both apparently listening, waiting, alert and wary. Tinyal skittered nervously to the side, but Salan recovered her control, speaking softly even as she encouraged her mount to move forward. "Legolas—" she started, but he held up a hand, cutting off her words. He looked so intensely focused, which was so unusual for him that it frightened her. 

"Do you hear that?" he asked softly, tilting his head slightly towards her, the tip of his ear pointing at the tree behind her. 

All she could hear was the pounding of her own heart as it seemed to creep up into her throat. "No. We must go back, Legolas," she insisted, starting to turn Tinyal, who was beginning to protest carrying such a shaky and nervous rider. 

"I hear something," he murmured, holding up his hand once more. "A soft hiss, perhaps."

All the stories she had ever heard, from scouts, guards and their nana tumbled through her brain, increasing her shaking. Part of her knew there was a very good chance he was still doing it all just to torment her, but enough of her was beyond such reason, knowing that there were spiders and they could run into them very easily in this dark place of the forest. She could see a few web bits hanging from some of the tree branches. The sight made her shake harder. 

Slowly Legolas turned to face her, his eyes widening in horror as he looked behind her. 

She spun around, making Tinyal rear up even as her eyes searched for something behind her. She saw nothing as the world shifted and eventually stopped moving as she landed in the dirt, still seeing nothing behind her. Stunned, scared beyond reason or anger, his laughter slowly penetrated the fog that had seeped into her mind as it tried to deal with her fear and the pain, not to mention embarrassment, that came from being thrown from her horse. 

Salan blinked and looked around her, making sure she was on the ground even as she searched the trees around her for signs of life. Her eyes grew wide as she looked past Ailin and Legolas. "Legolas?" she breathed softly, still prone upon the ground.

He didn't even bother to control his mirth. "I am not about to fall for it, just because you did," he told her smugly. His grin informed her he couldn't wait to tell everyone Tinyal had thrown her. To be thrown was a great source of embarrassment for elves, more so then than it is now, even.

But she was past noticing that, her eyes fixed in horror on the large black body that slowly made its way closer and closer to the smirking prince. Finally she reacted, drawing her sword just as the hairs on Legolas's neck began standing up, feeling something behind him. He would have been too late, and if not for Salan, I would not be telling you this story, for the prince would not have lived to his thousandth year. 

She got to her feet and drew her sword at the same instant, throwing it with deadly accuracy that came mostly from adrenaline, and partly from the cook teaching her how to throw kitchen knives one day when Legolas had left her behind. The spider hissed and fell from the tree, its long legs kicking as it wriggled in agony. Ailin reared up and left Legolas in the dust beside the creature, his eyes wide as the legs fastened on him before going strangely still.

Salan had recovered her sword and plunged it through the creature once more, speeding up the creature's death. When she looked at him, Legolas felt like sinking into the ground, unable to look for the censure, the anger, the disgust he deserved to see in her eyes, which had instead remained endlessly deep, impenetrable when he finally gathered the strength and will to look. As she held out a hand he hesitantly took it, finding himself soon on his feet. They began walking back, both wary and alert even when past the darkness of the deep forest, for they knew they could easily have been followed. 

At the first patch of green grass Salan cleaned her sword, sheathing it quickly as they came into sight of the mountain. Searchers hailed them quickly, and they were rushed into the palace, to the throne room where their parents were waiting, four anxious faces, for the whole of the palace knew their horses had come back without riders, Ailin with blood upon him. Black blood.

After a round of embraces, they stepped back, and all noticed the blood upon the two young elves. "What happened?" the Queen asked, touching a streak of blood on Salan's cheek that marred the creamy skin. 

"We wandered too deeply, my lady, and were attacked. Our horses fled from their fearful riders, but we managed to slay the creature without injury."

When the horror and fear gave way to pride as Thranduil looked at his son, Legolas could no longer bear it. "You managed," he corrected softly, lowering his eyes. "I would have been strung up if you had not been so quick." He looked up in time to see a blink of confusion, a look of speculation on her face. 

She merely shrugged, though, and asked if they could bathe before being punished. Thranduil looked between them, seeing clearly the still pale faces that said they were still replaying what had happened in their minds. Legolas's eyes were the most haunted of the two, guilt added in with the remnants of fear. "The results of your actions have been punishment enough, in my opinion. Do you agree?" he asked her father.

Her father frowned slightly, but slowly bowed his head. "As long as they swear not to travel farther than they are allowed until their archery skills are deemed good enough for adequate protection."

"Of course, Father," she agreed, bowing her head. Legolas bowed beside her, and they were dismissed. Before she could leave the main hall to get to her room, Legolas grabbed her arm. 

"Why did you not tell them it all?"

"Why should I have?" she countered. "You meant to torment me, it worked, and then we found ourselves in danger."

"Because of me."

"Yes. What of it? You would not do it again. You know it was your fault we were there, and even you are not so thick skulled to not realize it would not have happened if you hadn't lead me there."

"You followed," he protested with a frown, not willing to take all the blame.

"Was I supposed to leave the only heir to the throne alone in the darkness of the forest? Yes, I followed. I did not say it was your fault there was a spider where you chose to torture me. That was no one's fault." She pulled her arm loose, wisely leaving him to stew in his own juices as she did not add that they would not have met a spider at all, if he had simply continued where they were allowed to explore. 

Legolas frowned after her, struck upside the head with the realization she had not followed him simply because she liked to follow him around, making his life miserable. She had followed because she knew it was dangerous in the woods. She had followed because she was worried for his safety, though he had considered neither his nor her safety when he strayed into the darkness. 

After that, he couldn't find it within him to torment her so badly. He still tormented her of course, but in ways that were safe and allowed. Well, had their parents known he would have been scolded, reprimanded and punished over and over again, but they never found out about most of it, because she never told. 

They fell into a routine after several years. After he ruined her breakfast by loosening the lid on something she would pour over it or by salting her plate before she even got to her food, they would get their horses and ride where they could. Sometimes the ride was an all day trip, but most times they were finished by lunch, which they shared from a pack she carried with her. After lunch, sometimes they would split up, but most days found them practicing on the archery field once they were old enough.

Competition was fierce, though she never said a word to provoke it. She would accept his challenges, rise to them with her eyes flashing, but she would refuse to bait him in return, making the enjoyment he found in taunting her diminish over time. They both did well in archery, but he was the better of them by far. She had one over on him with the blades, though. Whether sword, the twin daggers or throwing knives she always had an edge on him. 

Probably because, unbeknownst to him, she had been practicing with them since he had first begun leaving her behind. She started with throwing knives, as you know, and then moved to the sword since her uncle was one of the instructors, but young enough to know what it was like to be left alone with nothing to do. 

She never volunteered that information, just sparred with him when he wanted to spar, the match almost always ending with him pinned somewhere, a blade of some kind pressed to his throat. The throwing knives was considered a more feminine form of defense, so he never bothered challenging her in that. It wouldn't have been right for him to win. 

After a victory on her part, he would challenge her to an archery match, merely so he could shore up his wounded pride at another failure. What he did not realize for many long years was she purposely neglected her practice of archery merely so he could beat her consistently without anyone being able to say she was throwing the matches. That was just her way. She was his strong, silent companion, who tempered his fierce sense of personal pride and slowly broke down all hints of spoiled selfishness so that by the time he was ten hundred years old, all knew he was well on the way to becoming a good and fair ruler. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A soft knock interrupted just as I would have finished anyway, so I called for the intruder to enter. "Mother!" the boy protested when the figure came in.

She laughed softly and shook her head at them. "I warned you it was early to bed tonight. There is much to do tomorrow." Her eyes sparkled in the light of the fire and the moon as she looked at her children. "Come on now, off to bed. Let nana get the sleep you need as well."

"But we were listening to nana—"

"Go on," I insisted, frowning slightly as they disobeyed.

Their mother lifted a brow at me, but was still smiling as she herded her children out the door. "Good night, nana," she murmured, stooping to kiss my cheek after the children were in the hall.

"Good night, my dear child." 

Her laughter lit the room before she moved silently into the hall, just as three doors dutifully shut as she shut the door to my room.


	3. A Child No Longer

Author's Note: Well, I'm back to sitting in front of a computer. I almost didn't get this up, because I took a reviewer's advice for my first story, and changed all the chapters to html, which is what I've been using for this story. Every two chapters, the site was over loaded and didn't want to let me upload, and I nearly said forget it to adding this chapter today, but I figure someone wants it. :] 

As always, ideas, constructive criticism, and just ordinary reviews accepted and **_greatly appreciated._**

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"All right now, where were we?" 

The children looked at me, two eagerly, one with a frown on her fair face. "Nana," she asked softly. "You said Legolas was ten hundred years old. What about his brother? He was born before Legolas was that old, was he not? Shouldn't Legolas and Salan have been taking Harlyn with them?"

"I suppose I should backtrack a bit, and put in the siblings in the order they come in, but Harlyn was far too young to have gone with them, especially since they were training themselves for fighting by the time Harlyn was born."

"How old did they have to be to go exploring?" the boy asked, frowning.

"Children were generally required to be at least five hundred years old, and that was only in the more daring wood-elf families. Legolas wasn't allowed to go outside until he was, oh, around eight hundred years, or thereabouts. Salan was about six hundred and fifty, so I suppose Legolas must have been near eight fifty, come to think about it."

"Why so long?" he asked, his eyes wide with horror at the idea of being kept inside the safety of the palace for so long.

"Dear child, things there were not as they are here. There was darkness, the possibility of death. Orcs, spiders and other things of evil and bad magic roamed the world, most of them not liking the elves very much." To put it mildly. The thought of any elf being caught, much less a she-elf could still make me shudder. "Had they run into any of these things unable to defend themselves, I would not have a story to tell." I took a breath as his eyes widened farther, disbelief mingling with fear. "There is nothing to worry about here, which is why you were allowed to go outside so young," I added gently. "Things were very different on Middle-Earth, when we had to think about death as creatures around us, even our beloved friends and relatives, died."

"Elves don't die!" he protested at once.

"Don't you know anything of our history?" his eldest sister asked, scorn in her voice. "Elves can die of a broken heart or by a mortal wound. With creatures of darkness running around, the latter is occasionally guaranteed, which would sometimes cause the former. Now please, let nana continue."

I had to smile at her insistence I continue, for she had tried to distance herself even tonight from me, trying to establish she was becoming a true lady. "Well, my dears, how shall I proceed? Oh, Harlyn. All right, when Harlyn was born…"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The Prince Harlyn was born not long after Legolas had begun to value Salan's company, though he dared not say anything of it. He missed her, since she spent a good portion of the morning with the Queen and her mother with his new brother. Only a few years had gone by before the small prince didn't need as much loving attention, though, so she returned to join him for walks or rides in the mornings, though lunch was now spent indoors, or in one of the few outside gardens with the Queen and the little prince. 

Legolas loved his little brother, to be sure, but it would be a few hundred years before they could become true friends, since Harlyn was so much younger than Legolas. After all, a thousand year gap between children is a bit long even now. He was looking forward to having a male around, for he was certain there were certain things he could enjoy with a male that he could not with a female.

Whenever he thought about that, though, he would frown. He was, after all, considered an adult, albeit a young one. By the time Harlyn was allowed to ride in the forest, Thranduil would begin encouraging Legolas to take over some of his duties and responsibilities, including the finding of a bride.

"You certainly look cheerful," a familiar voice murmured from behind him on one such occasion as he scowled at the arrow he had just fired as if the look would move it to the center of the target, which it had not hit.

He shook his head, smiling slightly as Salan regarded the arrow with a teasing grin. "Just thinking ahead," he admitted, notching another arrow. 

"What about?" she asked, waiting until the arrow had hit, in the center, of course, to speak.

"How I wish Harlyn was born when I was younger. Father shall begin pressuring me with duties before long, and I shan't have the time I would wish to spend with him in the woods."

"Surely you are mistaken. After all, Thranduil did not find his Queen until he was nearly four thousand years old. He cannot plan to pressure you as his father pressured him."

Legolas shrugged and released the arrow he had waited for her to finish speaking to let fly, out of politeness. "I know not, but I doubt I shall be as light hearted when Harlyn is eight hundred years old."

"The innocence of youth is spent before we know what we have, Legolas," she murmured, her eyes judging the distance between the arrows. Barely a hair's breadth between his two recent ones, but the others were scattered in a hands width radius from the center. "You must be worried indeed, for it to ruin your concentration in archery," she mused.

Legolas smiled slightly. "Think you could do better?" he teased softly.

"The way you're shooting today, I just might."

"Be my guest," he offered, handing over his bow since she had not brought hers. 

She took the bow with a lift of her brow, taking an arrow with different colored feathers from his practice supply. She notched it quickly, though not as quickly as he did, and sent her arrow to the target, just a finger width away from his last arrow. Her next four were similarly well-placed. Though she never hit the exact center, they were so closely clustered they were not quite sure who won. 

"I think you have improved in your lack of practice," he finally declared, walking beside her to study the target.

"And you have lost your touch for lack of competition, no matter how poor that competition may be," she retorted, shaking her head at the spread of her arrows. She still had not mastered the art. Except for today, and other days when he was annoyed, he had. 

"Perhaps," he agreed softly, working his arrows free. For the rest of the afternoon the normal competitive drive kept him from thinking about the worries of the future. Still, as the dinner wore on that evening his eyes were drawn to his little brother, who was just old enough to sit at the table with the rest of them, his short little legs swinging beneath the table, occasionally kicking something, making the table shake. His big blue eyes would grow wide, and he'd glance around, but nobody seemed to have noticed.

Legolas smiled even as he sipped at his wine, for he recalled looking around for the same reason, nearly never finding anyone had noticed. It had made him feel clever, and perhaps a bit sneaky. 

He frowned at his goblet as he mused that wasn't the best way for anyone, much less a prince, to feel, even in such extreme youth. 

"Legolas, stop it," a voice muttered at his ear. 

He blinked and turned to face Salan, whose chair had been moved to his side so he and Harlyn were facing each other. "Stop what?"

"Scowling. You were beginning to worry Harlyn," she murmured, motioning at the downcast face of his little brother with her eyes.

He winced and shoved his thoughts away. His participation in the discussion soon had Harlyn perked up, his eyes wide as he watched his older brother.

Salan smiled to see the two. Harlyn was undoubtedly a good representation of what Legolas had looked like at that age—almost cute! Legolas's stubbornness was still legendary, and once he was set on something, not even nana could dissuade him. Still, he had an undeniable soft spot for his little brother, which was obviously returned. Harlyn watched Legolas at every chance he was given, idolizing the prince with the innocence of youth, not understanding no one, even among the elves, was perfect. Nor that Legolas was not even near the top of the nearly perfect list. 

Her smile faded as she thought about what had been troubling Legolas, for she knew something he didn't. The king had already planned for several of the Ladies of the kingdom to visit the palace for a while, hoping Legolas would find one to make a princess.

Personally, she thought it was much too early, but what could she say against the king? She wasn't even supposed to know, but it was sometimes incredibly hard not to eavesdrop. She had been in Harlyn's room, which was adjoined to that of the King and Queen because of his extreme youth, telling him one of the stories nana had told her and Legolas several years before, since he was still too young to go listen to her stories. Once he came up to her waist, he could go listen. Until then, he was stuck listening to Salan, for though she was earnest in her tales, and could hold him spellbound for a short while, she was not a master storyteller like their nana, for she had been telling stories since before Thranduil was young. She had been his nana, after all. In fact, she had been nana to many, many of the elves over the years, and her story list just kept on growing. 

Anyway, Salan heard them discussing the impending swoop of ladies upon the prince. Salan had been startled, for it was hard to think of Legolas as old enough to marry since it had only been a little under a hundred years since he stopped trying to get rid of her all the time. 

The morning after that dinner she watched Legolas as he went around, helping prepare for Harlyn's third birthday celebration. Quick to smile since he was in a good mood, he joked with the others as he rapidly did his part before slipping away to the practice field, picking his bow up from its resting place beside the wall on the way. 

He _had_ grown up. Some. Not enough to get married by any means, but enough he would undoubtedly charm any she-elf he had half a mind to. 

The realization startled her into betraying her presence. He glanced over at her, and motioned her to join him with a tilt of his head. She shook her head, holding up the sewing she had been instructed to do. He gave her a sympathetic, yet cocky grin that said at the same time 'too bad', and 'I'm glad it's not me'.

That had made her smile before she returned to working, her back against the wall so she could still watch Legolas practice when she had a moment to glance up. A shadow fell over her work and she blinked, looking up to see he had stopped and was now leaning down, blocking her light as he studied her work. One finger traced the leaves that she had already stitched in nearly invisible stitches around the edge of the cloak she and her mother were making for Harlyn. It would only last him a few years before he grew out of it, but she knew he would enjoy it. She still had the one that had been made for her birthday. "I did not realize you knew how to do this," he murmured, lifting the material so he could see the full effect of the silvery thread on the dark green cloak. "It is very fine stitch work."

"Thank you," she murmured with a faint smile for the compliment. Coming from him, it was a rare treat indeed. "Mother has been teaching me for many centuries, a few minutes at a time. This is my first large project, though."

"Large?" he teased with a grin, holding up the small hood. 

She rolled her eyes and took it away from him, motioning him out of the way of her light. He moved, sitting beside her so he could watch for a minute. She bit her lip, wondering if she should tell him about the conversation she had overheard. On the one hand, she _had overheard it, and it hadn't been meant for her to hear. On the other, she felt it was almost a duty to tell him, since they had become friends, however much he had hated the idea of it to begin with. _

"What is it?" he asked softly.

She blinked and looked down at the work. She hadn't moved in a while, so she jerkily continued, only her years of practice keeping her from messing up. 

"Salan, what?"

She sighed, knowing she had no choice now. He had that tone in his voice, the 'I'm the stubborn prince so you may as well give in and save yourself the trouble' tone. "I was not entirely honest before," she murmured softly, frowning at her hands. 

"About what?" he asked, obviously confused.

She sighed again, giving up on her stitches. "I overheard your parents when I told Harlyn a story the other night. They have already arranged for ladies to visit the palace."

When she looked up his had eyes widened, like a deer about to be hunted who can hear the baying of the hounds drawing closer, but unable to tell from which direction they come. He groaned softly and leaned back against the wall, his head falling back with a dull thud. "I am doomed, Salan."

She nearly laughed at the forlorn expression on his face, but he was too serious for her to do so. "Legolas, just because they come doesn't mean you have to do anything more than be polite…" she could help it no longer and began to laugh. "Though I realize that is a sacrifice for you."

Legolas glared at her, but slowly began to smile. He shook his head, the smile dying as her laughter faded. "He will _not force me to marry," he insisted, his voice low. His eyes were dead serious, almost deadly in the burning anger. "I have no desire for female company, either. I wish to enjoy whatever is left of my youth." He jumped to his feet, nearly shaking in his anger._

"Legolas," she sighed softly. "You are no longer a child."

He blinked in surprise and turned to find her standing behind him. "Aren't you the one who claimed to be wiser that me?"

"Yes, and that may perhaps yet be, but you are not a child any longer. Young still, without a doubt, but not a child." It saddened her, somewhat, that they would no longer have their time together as nearly uninterruptedly as they had for the last decades. 

His eyes searched hers for a long moment, and a slow smile melted a good portion of his anger away. He touched her cheek, a gentle, affectionate move he had not done before. "I have to wonder if you were ever a child, for if I no longer am one, you most certainly are not either."

She shook her head slightly. "Merely eight hundred am I, Prince Legolas. I have many years to go before child is no longer a term applied to me by all older than we are."

He closed his eyes, a slight frown gathering between his brows. His eyes were fierce when he looked at her. "You will never need my title," he insisted, before walking quickly away, leaving Salan with a slow smile replacing the startled look on her face. 

Though he may not have called her his friend, he was certainly aware she was.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Knowing this was the best stopping place I could find for a long while, I ceased talking, watching as the young elves around me slowly blinked, bringing themselves back to the room. Then they all protested together.

"Nana!"

"You cannot be stopping already!"

"Keep going!"

"That is all for tonight, little ones," I insisted. "You have another long day tomorrow, after all." It was the anniversary of Legolas's wedding, in fact. Many long years had passed since that fateful day and year, but he still celebrated it with his wife, even if no one else would have joined in. They did, of course, many from the different realms, along with the hobbits and Gimli. "You do not wish your parents to be upset with me for your lack of sleep, surely?" I asked as they stayed where they had been, obviously having decided if they stayed long enough I would be coerced into continuing. Their parents could have told them that one would simply not work with me! As could their grandfather, in fact.

The boy got up first, his steps slow enough to assure me he was only going for my sake. "Good night, nana," he murmured, kissing my cheek before walking from the room, his sisters following quickly behind him.


	4. Glint In His Eyes

Author's Note: Well, here's the next installment. It's been a hectic week—classes, labs, ordering books… Not to mention it is tax season! Joy! *Sarcastic grumble*

To Kaylee: I'll do my best to get at least one chapter up each week, I promise. Also, your review was interesting since the idea you wrote of had already been sparked in my mind…. You'll see what I mean later, next chapter, I think. It's not quite finished, but I was started before I read my reviews for chapter 4 (I always confuse myself… The third chapter of the story, but the forth because of the introductory disclaimer.). Last minute touches and a few more pages yet to go.

To the gang: You are impatient! At least you refrained from egging my room when I reminded you I wouldn't have computer access! 

To my other faithful readers, reviewers and e-mailers, thank you so much! I love hearing from anyone and everyone. Ideas, constructive hints, or just kudos, all welcome and appreciated!

Arghhh! I've been trying to get this uploaded for too long! The page keeps popping up cannot find server! I hope this works, or I'll wait 'til tomorrow. Anyone else having problems? Or am I just blessed? 

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"Are you ready?" I asked.

They all gave me a look, one their father had perfected centuries upon centuries ago. _'Do you really need to ask?'_ it clearly asked, one brow raised on the eldest daughter, cutely throwing in a piece of their mother, though she didn't realize it. It was always the best part of telling stories, seeing how the audience responded, especially when that audience was a mix of audiences I had had before. As the highest haled story-teller among the elf 'nanas', I have had many, many children at my feet through the generations. Princes, princesses, common wood-elves, and even those who became humans, before we left the havens in the first place.

Oh, how I love telling stories!

"Okay. Where had we gotten?"

"Legolas was about to be attacked by she-elves," the boy prompted, resting on his stomach on my bed with his head propped on his hands, one leg crooked up where he would occasionally reach out to tickle his own foot. Sometimes I simply do _not_ know where he gets his quirks. His father never did that, nor did his mother or grandfather.  

"Not attacked," one of his sisters protested quietly, obviously wishing only to put him quickly in his place without talking when I could be telling them the story they had come to hear. 

"Very well, are we ready?" Varying degrees of the previous look shot my way. I smiled faintly, chuckling internally. How fun it was to watch them squirm in their impatience. "The first day of the feasting arrived…"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

In the autumn, as was the way with all wood-elf communities, a grand feast was held to honor the changing of the seasons and to celebrate, well, because they could. Wood-elves were never very particular about things that could get them a fine feast and good wine, especially when it was thrown in the palace. Which this celebration was. Every year Thranduil held the great feast in the palace, making everyone in the palace work for several weeks ahead of time to prepare.

Even Salan and Legolas had to release their independence to assist in the preparations. He was a bit irritated by it, but she was excited about the coming festival, since she was, above all else, a wood-elf. Legolas was mostly irritated about it because he had heard whispers as he passed about the ladies that were to be arriving, though nothing had been said to him directly, except by Salan. 

A muscle twitched in his jaw as he recalled seeing the elves opening and freshening several of the rooms in the guest wing, which assured him there was not the slightest bit of falsehood to Salan's tale, though he had never really believed the little thought that suggested she had made it up. Salan did lie from time to time, but it had usually been to his benefit, as far as he knew, anyway. She never lied to save herself though, a noble gesture that slowly became part of the way he operated, seeing it as it was, a mark of honor. 

So Legolas sulked even as he worked, his spirits lightening only for a few minutes in the day, when Harlyn would tag along behind, helping by carrying whatever his little arms could hold. Once in a while he was able to escape to the forest to practice his archery. Usually it was in the fuss right before lunch, the only time he was able to slip away unnoticed. Two days of missed meals had helped improve his aim and his mood, but he still hated that he had to run away to get some peace, and more so that he had to give up lunch in order to do so. 

So thinking he reached for an arrow, only to find it stuck in his quiver. With a frown he shrugged the quiver off his shoulders and looked inside, a grin coming to his face as he saw a small bundle resting inside his quiver. He tugged it out, and found a supply of way bread that would last him until after the feast. He took a bite and went back to archery, until he had to be back at the palace to continue helping. Setting his things in his room, he then wandered around the little used side halls, keeping his ears tuned towards the voice of the one she-elf he didn't mind running into. 

When he found her, he lounged against the doorway, watching as she laughed at something that was said, her eyes sparkling with humor and excitement as she helped hold up a large piece of material that was to be looped over the windows to add an air of elegance to the room. He gave a small, nearly inaudible whistle by pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth, blowing a small amount of air over it and through his teeth. It sounded like a bird had come into the halls, but she was the only one who turned and looked. She smiled at him, lifting a brow in question. He held up the leaf wrapper of the way bread he had eaten, bowing his head in thanks. She winked and went back to work before he was noticed by anyone else.

After that, the days of preparation were close to enjoyable, instead of merely tolerable, and he even managed to sneak Harlyn to the little archery spot with him without being noticed. For a while, anyway.

A small sound turned their heads to the intruder as Legolas showed Harlyn how to draw a bow, though Harlyn was still too young to draw the bow that was taller than he was. Salan's mouth quirked into a grin when she saw them, but it quickly faded. "You'd best get back with all the haste those short legs of yours can manage," she murmured, sending a teasing smile to Harlyn. "You've both been missed," she murmured solemnly, directing her words to Legolas now.

He winced and looked back at the mountain, making no effort to start home. 

Salan rolled her eyes and took the bow from his hand even as Harlyn came back with the spent arrows. She took them and removed the quiver from Legolas, quickly swinging it onto her back. She picked Harlyn up and set him on Legolas's shoulders, before giving the elder prince a shove between his shoulder blades. "Go!"

He blinked, his hands closing over his brother's legs automatically. When he understood he smiled quickly, winking before setting out at a quick stride even as Salan ran back to a different entrance. 

When he and Harlyn appeared, their parents were so relieved there was very little in the way of remonstration, though Thranduil looked at the sword which rested at Legolas's side in disapproval, obviously wishing that if he had to take his brother beyond the mountain, he could have been better armed. Of course, had he still had his bow and quiver, they would have known he went for the sake of archery, since it was one of his few pleasures. Since spending time with his little brother was the other, they said nothing much, sending Harlyn off to play while sending Legolas to work, like he was supposed to have been doing all along. 

When he got to the last room that was needing some decorations, he found Salan already in the thick of things. Her eyes met his quickly, allowing him to smile briefly in thanks. She nodded faintly, and continued her work.

The next day he was excused from work, which he would have preferred to what he ended up doing—greeting all their visiting guests. Mostly noble elves of Mirkwood, it was obvious why they were there when the ladies lowered their gazes from him with a soft blush creeping up over their ears, sometimes even in their cheeks. 

With a sigh and a forced smile, he continued greeting them as the never-ending train continued coming into the room. Suddenly the sound of crying caught his ears, and those of the others in the room. Salan came in with a hysterical Harlyn, her eyes lowered to the noble-born as she entered quietly. "Beg pardon, my lords," she murmured softly, moving forward even as she spoke. 

"What happened to him?" Thranduil asked in a loud voice, nearly making Legolas wince since his ears were between Thranduil and Salan. 

She looked up, and Legolas caught a hint of mischievousness before she looked quickly down. "I am not certain, my lord. I know only he wishes the company of his brother." So saying she hoisted the hysterical elf child into Legolas's arms, who closed them over his brother without thinking. She laid her hand on Harlyn's back. "Shh," she whispered softly. "You're with Legolas now," she murmured, rubbing in small, soothing circles. At the same time, she looked up and winked at Legolas, before kissing the back of Harlyn's head, who had stopped sobbing so dramatically, calming down to soft hiccupping tears as he clung to Legolas's shoulders. Salan backed discreetly away. "Pray excuse my interruption," she murmured softly, her eyes once again lowered as she observed the proper traditions as she exited.

Legolas blinked after her, having forgotten she wasn't a true lady… like the ones waiting for his attention. He sighed faintly and shifted the boy in his arms, smiling slightly at the next one, the smile becoming a true one since he had just realized two things. The first was that with Harlyn in his arms, he had an excuse not to get so close, no longer being required to touch the cheeks or kiss the hands of the ladies. The second was there was absolutely nothing wrong with Harlyn. The two scamps had teamed up to help get him out of a situation which he had not created and which he absolutely abhorred. 

He would have to thank her again. It seemed like that was all he was doing anymore, was thanking her for helping him out, though he didn't ask for her to do so. Nor was it in whatever list of tasks she was to perform everyday since he was being slowly integrated into the adult world, meaning she had very little to do with him as set up by their parents anymore, her time being freed as his was taken.

That evening the festivities began, seeing Legolas with a group of other elves that were about his age from the village. They had been taught the basics of weapons together, along with Salan and one or two other she-elves from the village, and had more or less become friends. Not close, since they had spent little time truly together, and the village elves had little of a chance to truly explore the forest on a regular basis as Legolas and Salan had. Still, they were better than mere acquaintances, and he found his time more enjoyable when he was with them than when he was alone at such gatherings. 

"How's Salan these days?" Jarthen asked, looking sharply around. "I haven't seen her for a while."

"Only a hundred years or so," his brother Martalon countered. "Still tormenting her, Legolas?"

Legolas smiled slightly, with a shake of his head. "Her persistence wore me down," he murmured with a faint smile, recalling the almost doggedly persistent way she had followed him around for the longest time. 

They chuckled softly as Zarlen pretended to faint. "You must be kidding. I was sure I would hear you had shot her and she had stabbed you!"

Legolas added his chuckle to that of the others. "So was I, for a while." Their truce had been unofficially called after the others no longer came at regular times, having to fit the learning around their work and revelry with friends from the village. Still, Legolas no more begrudged them their freedom than they begrudged him his birth. Actually, from time to time, each pitied the other, which of course meant they would never be the truest of friends. "She has become a good friend to have," he admitted after a moment, his tone that of one who has just made a great discovery.

The elves around him exchanged glances before one reached out to touch his forehead. 

He shook them off with an annoyed look. Then his eyes fell on the entering nobles, making his eyes narrow. "Great. They're here."

"Who?"

He motioned with his head. The elves around him sucked in deep breaths, their eyes widening. "Wow!"

"No kidding!"

Legolas frowned at them. "What is with you?"

"Have you gone blind? Or is it just that you have no fire in your high blood?" 

He frowned harder and looked back at the ladies, seeing them suddenly through the eyes of a wood-elf. He blinked in surprised and looked away, feeling a blush rise into his ears. "I shouldn't have looked, I shouldn't have looked," he repeated it over and over like a mantra. "Now I'm in trouble." He lifted a hand to his temple while drawing a deep breath, praying it would be a calming one.

A female voice sighed behind him. "What now?" she asked in exasperation.

He smiled slightly, admitting she had helped him out of trouble enough recently. "They made me look at something in another perspective," he admitted, turning to face her, letting his hand fall to his side.

She lifted a brow. "Sounds like a good thing to me, not something to cause trouble."

Her tone and words were reasonable, and he was reminded she probably knew more about being a prince than he did. Still, he shook his head. "Not always," he insisted, looking over at the ladies with a newly kindled interest. After all, he was an adult elf…

Salan blinked at the look in his eyes. It was one she had never seen before, at least not in him. Well, she'd admitted to herself and him he wasn't a child, but she hadn't expected him to give up on it completely so soon. "I take it I should knock before entering your room from now on."

Legolas blinked and looked back at her, seeing a sadness in her eyes he understood. Tonight was the death of a time in their lives they had both enjoyed, even if neither would admit it aloud. He sighed softly and touched her cheek, before kissing her forehead. "It was bound to happen someday, my friend."

She smiled, still sadly, but it was a smile nevertheless. "I know," she agreed, reaching up to touch his cheek. It felt like they were saying goodbye. In a way, they were. "Just be careful not to get ensnared before you wish to be. I may not always know where you are or what you would wish after this."

He smiled faintly, nodding his head slightly. As the music grew louder around them they were drawn out of their world as Martalon asked Salan if she would dance. Legolas caught his sort-of friend's arm before they could move to the floor to dance. "She is yet a child, Martalon," he hissed softly in the elf's ear. "If that changes, you will be joining the she-elves in song."

Martalon's look was startled, scared and amused all at once. "Of course, Prince Legolas," he murmured, the amusement winning as his eyes sparkled when they caught Salan's, who was laughing softly, having heard what Legolas had said. As the music drew them away from the others, Martalon grinned at her. "You have a protective friend, Salan."

"Who never admitted I was even his friend until tonight," she agreed, laughing as the song became downright silly. Her eyes caught on the tall blond-haired prince who was dancing with a lady, the glint still in his eyes. "Will he be all right?"

Martalon grinned. "Tonight he'll figure out he's not hideous to she-elves. After a while, he'll lose the intense interest we accidentally spawned in him tonight."

"But will he lose it because he thinks he's done all he wishes to, or because he begins to doubt they like him, instead of just his title?"

Martalon frowned and looked over her shoulder at the elfin prince. "I hadn't thought of that," he admitted. 

Salan sighed, lowering her eyes until the music took her worries for her only true friend away.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They rolled their eyes when I stopped, though the younger girl seemed a little disturbed, thinking about Legolas dancing with all those she-elves with a 'glint' in his eyes. She frowned, but slowly got to her feet as the others did, all kissing me quickly before adding a 'good night, nana,' before they walked out of the room, pulling the door shut behind them. 

A smile crossed my face, and I watched the last embers of the fire die before moving to my bed, wondering how I should do the next parts of Legolas's story. Should I tell the children all the ensnarement he barely escaped? All the she-elves he left crying in his wake?

Why not?

Well, considering, maybe I should gloss over that a bit. After all, he would not like knowing the little ones heard all about a time in his life he does not like to speak of. 

Maybe…


	5. Their Punishment

Author's Note: Well, I finally got the other chapter loaded, a few days later than I expected. I don't believe it! I got one chapter up without the gang noticing! *DUCKS* Not that I don't love you guys, but you write incredible long and mostly pointless reviews that more or less serve to tell the world you guys are incapable of surfing the web on personal computers by yourselves….

Um, yeah…

I'll just shut up before they sneak in and egg my room… again…

This took me a bit longer than planned because I was struck by creative lightning—I have another story I'm planning to start up today, but I swear I won't slow things down any (more than they already are because of the inexcusable course load I have) for this story. I just pray I don't cross upload any chapters. 

Here you go, guys!

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The children sat down quickly, hardly pausing for a 'hello nana' before they were looking at me expectantly. I rolled my eyes towards the ceiling, though I had to smile at their interest. Even the eldest girl no longer tried to claim indifference or disinterest. She had taken over the bed today, though she let her sister sit off to one side as their brother took the abandoned window seat. 

"Anyone remember where we were?"

"The fall festival," a voice from the window declared at once. "Salan was dancing with Martalon, worried about Legolas," he added, obviously tired of being reprimanded for imperfect answers.

"Ah, you are right," I agreed as the others stayed silent. "Well, the next morning…."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Salan hesitated outside the door to Legolas's room. She had awakened him for breakfast nearly every morning for near on a hundred years, but today she hesitated. The look in his eyes returned to the fore of her memory, and she knocked hesitantly, recalling almost painfully all the times she had simply walked in, jumping onto his bed to wake him. He would almost always growl and throw a pillow at her, which she would promptly use against him. If he still didn't get up, she knew of a few delightfully ticklish spots that usually got him going quickly enough….

A curse from within broke into her musings and her second round of knocking.

"What?" Legolas growled, making his disheveled appearance at the door. "Oh," he muttered, looking at her with a frown. Then he yawned and ran his left hand through his mussed hair, the movement making her try to see why he wasn't using his right hand like usual. It was holding up the piece of material wrapped about his waist. 

She blushed and turned around, not even curious as to the owner of the feminine foot she had glimpsed on his bed before her senses had returned enough she moved away. "Breakfast is undoubtedly being served, Legolas," she murmured softly, only the insistence of a few weeks before keeping her from calling him either 'my lord' or 'prince'. She walked quickly away, not looking back. 

Legolas looked after her, feeling regret again for the death of his childhood. Not that he would have definitely changed it if given the chance to. Still, seeing Salan feel uncomfortable facing him, which hadn't happened more than once or twice in the time since she was fifty years old, made him reconsider. With a sigh he closed his door, looking disinterestedly at the she-elf stretched out on his bed, her eyes slowly blinking as he moved around, getting dressed. 

"Good morning, my prince," she murmured, her voice nearly a purr.

"Morning it is," he agreed, finding a pair of leggings that would work since he still had to look the part of a prince, since their guests were still around. He pulled them on and glanced back at the elf in his bed. "Breakfast is being served, if you're hungry," he informed her, not missing the distressed, hurt look she sent him. 

"I'd rather stay here," she murmured softly, her eyes asking him not to do what he was doing—shutting her out. 

"You can do whatever you wish," he muttered, not really caring if she was hurting right now. So was he. "I need to be with my family." And friend. He threw her clothing towards the bed, but she was clutching at the sheet that covered her. He looked at her for a moment from the door, then left. He closed his eyes as he heard a soft sob before he closed the door, but shook his head and ran down the halls, hoping to catch up with Salan before she entered the dining hall. He managed, but barely. He caught her arm and swung her away from the door before they could see she was about to enter. "Good morning," he murmured softly, letting go of her arm to sweep some of her hair back. He tilted his head at her, aware he was pleading with her but he wasn't sure for what. 

When she smiled at him, he knew. He wanted her friendship, and had been afraid the not so welcome at his door had hurt it. He let out a breath of relief, seeing a comfortable grin slowly slide into place on her face. "So, Legolas," she murmured softly, walking ahead of him towards the door, "how was she?"

He choked, his face turning bright red as he froze in his tracks. "Salan!" 

She grinned cheekily over her shoulder at him. "Well, you said I wasn't a child if you weren't, and you most certainly no longer count. Of course, at the same time you warned Martalon you would perform impromptu knife work if he got too close to me…" She chuckled at his expression and walked jauntily into the dining hall, leaving Legolas to control his blush. 

After that, Salan would knock about ten times on Legolas's door in rapid succession, but wouldn't wait around for him to come to the door. He would have sworn she did it just for revenge, except she had never been the kind to get revenge, except maybe by making him feel guilty by not making sure he was punished when a few words from her would have sufficed. 

One morning the knocking continued, making Legolas get up from the warm tangle of sheets and limbs he had been sleeping in. The knocking became almost frantic, before finally the handle turned and a blur of hair caught his vision before Salan was before him. "Legolas!" she hissed, her eyes wide. They darted to the bed, and she spun around the room in a flurry of long hair and full skirts, tossing clothing at the both of them, while they simply blinked at her in sleepy astonishment. 

"Dress! Dress already milady!" she insisted, tugging on the lady's hands so she was in a sitting position. "Legolas!" she whined, seeing he hadn't moved since grabbing and stepping into his leggings. 

"What is wrong with you?" he asked. 

She rolled her eyes, her hands clenched and her voice angry while still going at three times her normal speed. "I've decided to pay you back for every rotten thing you've ever done to me by waking and dressing you before your fathers get down here!"

He sent a wide-eyed look at the she-elf in his bed, and then they both got dressed in a flurry of clothes. Salan took the she-elf by the hand and ducked down the small corridor hidden by a tapestry on one wall even as he heard footsteps approaching. 

He swallowed and looked around, seeing Salan had done a good job getting all of his lover's clothing out of the way. He grabbed a comb and quickly smoothed his hair, braiding it as a knock came on the door. "Enter," he called through the wood, surprised his hands weren't shaking as he finished the small braid that went over one ear and began working on the next even as his father entered. 

"Legolas, I need to speak—" Thranduil trailed off as he saw the room was utterly empty, save for the prince who was finishing the second of braids that went over his ear. "Uh… Do you happen to know where…" He frowned. "Never mind."

Legolas couldn't help a shaky grin as his father left, but he had it firmly in hand before entering the dinning hall, where Salan and her charge were already eating, looking innocently up at him as Thranduil seemed utterly confused. 

The lady's father, however, was not, and before long Legolas was called before him and Thranduil, who was righteously indignant when he was informed Salan had warned them and aided their escape from being caught. Legolas didn't know for sure what was going on until both she-elves were brought in, his former lover standing beside and somewhat behind her father, her eyes refusing to meet his since she had obviously broke down at her father's questioning, while Salan stood where any good servant should, in a place that showed her subordination and lack of support against the accusations laid upon her. 

He frowned when Thranduil berated her for merely trying to help them, for not allowing an embarrassing situation to occur when Thranduil burst into his room. "Father—"

"Be silent, Legolas!" Thranduil insisted. "I shall get around to you when I have finished with Salan."

Her cheeks had paled, her eyes growing darker with every word of condemnation, but her chin didn't sink below the mark her position required she hold it, not beaten though he saw her quake once. 

"Father," he insisted, moving so he was nearly in front of her. "Salan did what she did to spare the lady a scene. For being kind to our guest you berate her so harshly?"

"Are you sure it was not out of misplaced loyalty to you?" Thranduil asked back, his eyes furious. 

Legolas had not seen him so mad in many long years, nearly centuries in fact, but he had gained a bit of strength himself since then. "And if it was? Isn't it then my place to change her behavior, rather than yours to demean her when she did what she did for the best of reasons?" He drew himself up to his full height. "If any wrong doing has taken place, it was on my part, no one else's. Leave the ladies out of it."

Thranduil looked at his son for a long moment, took in the flashing determination in his bright silver-sharded blue eyes, and lifted a brow, the closest to a smile he could allow himself. "As you wish. Salan, you are dismissed. I would like a moment with my son, please," he asked of the others, who all quickly exited as discreetly as they could. Thranduil did not miss the worried look given the prince by his mother and Salan, though Legolas did. 

Pride blossomed in his chest like never before as Legolas stood still and certain, not quelled by the impending doom he knew must be hanging over his head. "You should not toy with the ladies, my son," Thranduil began. Legolas blinked in surprise, for he had never considered what he did 'toying'. "They come here hoping to be made the princess," he continued. "What you do is far from princely."

The blue eyes lowered, a slight frown on the fair face, the hint of silver standing out in the bright blue as Legolas considered this accusation. 

"However, you are young, as are they. All elves had a period of wildness in their early adult years. I suppose this is yours." Thranduil nearly smiled when Legolas's eyes shot to his. "But be careful, my son, for not all of the ladies have fathers who remember when they were young." He did smile as a thought occurred to him. "Think how you would feel to have a daughter associated with the likes of you the next time you ask a lady to dance. Or better yet, Salan. You have become rather protective of her, I've noticed. She has nearly reached her adult years now, yet you keep a watch on her dancing partners."

"She is not yet old enough."

"But old enough to know when her actions are wrong."

Legolas nodded slightly. "She would not have done it, if she thought it wrong."

"It was, whether she believed it or not at the time. It was deceitful, even if done for the best of reasons." At the look of anger Legolas tried to control, Thranduil smiled once more. "Which I believe it was. However, punishment cannot be avoided completely. You shall not attend dinner this evening or any other for the coming week, nor shall you be allowed any time alone with any one of the visiting elves. You will take your meals in the kitchen or your room until the week has ended. Understood?"

Legolas nodded. "And Salan?"

"Her punishment is for you to decide."

Legolas frowned, not sure of that idea. How could he punish her for helping him? "Father—"

"That is part of your punishment, though standing up for her when you believed her unjustly treated was a good mark in your favor."

Just as her remaining silent was in hers. Legolas felt no better about it, though, and merely bowed his head before going directly to her room, where he found her pacing nervously. She jumped when she saw someone in the door, worry in her eyes when she saw him. "Well?" 

He smiled faintly and closed the door behind him. "I have been banned from the company of visiting she-elves for a week, including at meals."

She blinked in surprise as he stretched out on her bed. She sank down onto the chest which stood at the foot of it, curling her legs beneath her. "That's all?"

"No," he murmured, studying her for a long moment. "I must decide your punishment."

She lowered her eyes away from his, focusing on her hands which were tightly clenched in her lap. All the thoughts she had ever had considering what he could force her to do as the prince came to her mind, though she knew it was silly to worry so, for he was still her friend, and he had stood up for her. Thinking of which, she had to speak before she lost her will to do so. "You should not have stopped him, Legolas."

"Why not?" he frowned at her. "He was not being—"

"He had every right. What I did, while right from one view, was deceitful in his. As the king, he had no choice but to berate me in front of her father."

Legolas was silent for a long moment, for he had failed to remember that as the king, certain duties were above all friendships. His father had been in a tight place, and though Salan had seen that, he had not. "Odd," he mused, "but he almost seemed proud of me for interrupting."

"Of course he was, but you should not have done it. You put him in an even worse place that what I did already had."

He looked at her, her head bent as she studied her hands as if they were fascinating. He sighed softly and thought about it all for a while, how complicated the rules of ruling really were. "Well, my wise young friend, what punishment do you deserve?"

She lifted her eyes to his, her wide eyes sad as she studied him for a long moment. "My just punishment would never be enacted, for you have not the will to do it." She swallowed before continuing. "By the nature of my transgression I should either be banished from the kingdom or put in the dungeons."

He snapped upright. "For helping me?"

"For willingly and knowingly deceiving the king. What greater crime in the land is there that does not involve the shedding of blood?"

"But—"

She shook her head. "You are the prince, Legolas. If anyone else had deceived your father for any reason at all, you would not feel so."

"You did not do it with malicious intent. You did not think that you were deceiving the king, did you? You thought merely that you would help me, and the lady," he added her almost as an afterthought. 

"But the law is clear—"

"You are yet a child," he insisted, a frown pulling his brows over coldly glittering eyes. "You did not think as much as you should have before acting. You will not be so harshly punished as that."

"Yet for what I did you cannot let me off with an easy punishment. What I did was worse than what you did, so I—"

He shook his head. "No, Salan. Never believe that. I was in the wrong."

"As was I."

He looked at her for an intent moment, frowning as he recalled his father's words about the ladies. "Excuse me, Salan," he murmured, walking quickly from his room and to the throne room, where the lady's father was discussing something quietly with Thranduil. "Father?" he asked softly.

Thranduil looked up. "Yes, Legolas? Has it been decided?"

"No, Father. For I believe I was the one to do wrong of the two of us." He watched his father, saw surprise enter the wise elf's eyes as he continued. "Declare the punishment you feel just for her actions, yet let me endure it. She knows what she has done and refuses to take any punishment beneath that which should be offered from me. So please, Father," his voice nearly gave out, for it had been a long time indeed since he had pleaded with his father. "Let me have her punishment as well as my own, for she would have done nothing wrong if I had not again led her too far down the path," he added, recalling the incident with the spiders. 

Thranduil blinked at his son, surprised at the request and the way it had been worded. "Again?" he asked softly, lifting a brow.

Legolas wasn't sure if he wanted to come completely clean. He was nervous enough about whatever his father would do to him without adding the fact that she had lied to pile. Besides which, that could get her into more trouble. He sighed softly. "The day she saved my life from the spider I had been the one leading. If I had not so led us, we would have never been in danger. Again I have taken her too far." But this time the punishment would come.

Thranduil looked at his son in surprise once more, for he had never expected such things from his son already. Perhaps he was truly going to become a good ruler after all. Salan had done an excellent job, though neither one knew she had been doing it. "Very well, Legolas. You shall be confined to your room for the next moon, and then released only to join your family for meals after that for the following one. Have you anything to say?"

Legolas considered the punishment. "Two things, Father. Both in the form of a request."

"Name them," Thranduil murmured, feeling very well disposed to his son just then. 

"First that Salan be kept from punishing herself since she has lacked in being formally punished. I have no doubt she will try to seclude herself in her room for a while. The second being that Harlyn is allowed to visit my room whenever he wishes. Though perhaps that is more for my sake than his, I do not wish him to believe I have neither the time nor the desire to see him, for neither shall ever be true."

Thranduil tilted his head as he regarded his eldest child. "The first shall be impossible to enforce, but I am sure your mothers shall do their best. The second is granted."

Legolas bowed his head. "Thank you, Father." Without another word he turned and walked quickly to Salan's room, where she was still sitting upon the chest at the foot of her bed, her fingers tightly interlaced. "It is done," he informed her, before walking back down a different hall to get to his own room. He heard her behind him before long.

"What is done?" she insisted, following him right into his room.

"You were less at fault than was I, and it was my decision, Salan."

"What was?" she asked in exasperation. 

"I have taken your punishment."

Her eyes went wide and she looked him over as if expecting him to be shackled. "What?"

"I am confined entirely to my chambers for the next month, then released only for meals for the following one."

She paled, her eyes looking nearly black against the whiteness of her skin. "You cannot do that."

"I already have."

"You cannot!" she insisted, making a move to leave the room.

He caught her arm, shaking her slightly. "It was my fault, start to finish. You would have done nothing wrong if I had not."

"Exploring adulthood is not something to be considered wrong, Legolas. All elves do it at some time."

"Not all elves are also at the same time princes whose fathers are parading ladies in front of them in the hopes one or another will seem like princess material." She stared up at him, a thousand denials building in her eyes. He placed a finger over her lips. "Father accepted my wish to be granted your punishment, and that you not be allowed to take any upon yourself. He is set in this, you shall not sway him should you be so bold as to trouble him with this matter farther in front of the nobles." 

Her eyes dropped from his, and he knew she would not argue with his father. He released her, only to watch her sink to the edge of his bed, the sheets still mussed from the morning fiasco. "Two months," she breathed softly, shaking before she put her face in her hands. "It is as a death sentence!" she declared, her eyes torn between anger and concern when she looked up at him.

Slowly he shook his head. "I am not a wood-elf, my friend. I shall not fade away for not seeing the trees and stars for myself."

"But you have not even the gardens of the palace to enjoy. How could any elf endure it?!?"

He smiled faintly, but shrugged. "I shall. If I begin to fade away, he shall lighten the punishment to include some time in the garden."

"Don't joke. This is a horrible thing to joke about."

"I was not joking, Salan. I shall be fine."

"Indeed?" she spat getting to her feet. "How could you do this? You cannot take my punishment upon yourself. It is not right!"

"Right or not it is what has happened, and neither you, I nor Thranduil can or will change it."

She frowned in distress, dropping down to the bed once more, drawing her knees to her chest as she used to when he left her behind, sitting on the steps looking so forlorn as she began to cry. Thankfully, the tears never came. He wasn't sure what he would have done if faced with those today. She did sniffle though, and then gave him a little watery smile. "If you ever gain the wisdom you deserve, Legolas, you shall make a very fine prince." She swiped at her eyes as if to keep from crying. "Though I ought to strangle you for this."

"Then I would have no chance to help you. That would be a crime greater than the one you claim to have committed, would it not?" 

She smiled again, with a little more spirit at his teasing tone. "I wish you hadn't."

"I know. But there has often been a time when what you said or didn't say kept me from punishment. Consider this repayment."

"With interest."

He chuckled softly, drawing another hesitant smile. "I doubt it. I'm probably still in your debt."

She shivered and shook her head. "I don't think so."

He touched her hair softly and then kissed her forehead as the time came when she would be required. "You'd best lock the door on your way out," he murmured softly, pulling the key from his tunic.

"What about Harlyn?"

"That was another request of mine, which was also granted. He is allowed to see me whenever he wishes."

She nodded and slowly took the key, backing away with a look of guilt as she pulled the door shut, or started to.

"Salan?" She looked at him in question. "This was my decision. Don't torture yourself over it." 

With a downcast look she pulled the door shut, and he felt her hesitate before the key was inserted, slowly turning before being pulled loose. He heard it hit the door when she hung it by its string around the door knob, then turned to look around the room with a sigh. It was going to be a long two months—

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"What are you three still doing in here?" 

"Mother!" two of the three elves listening protested.

"No, I don't want to hear it. It's off to bed for you. Really nana, you know it's too late for them to be up!" Despite her words her eyes were sparkling as she scolded me, knowing well I enjoyed making them wait for more of the story, and she didn't mind being the reason for the wait. She could remember others doing it to her. "Say goodnight to nana, children."

"Good night, nana," they each echoed before kissing my cheek on their way out the door.

"Good night, dear nana," she added, following the path of her children before closing the door behind them with a wink.


	6. Salan to the Rescue

Author's Note: Hi guys! I got this finished sooner than I expected, so, I hope you enjoy it (and if you happen to find any little errors, let me know and I'll correct them—I haven't checked this chapter like I usually do. Hopefully it's fine.).

Kaylee—I'll look back and see if I've mentioned that later… ) And my new story is called The Worry Stone.  I've been able to link to it, so I know it's there and not just a missed connection (which I've been getting plenty of.) I should have a new chapter up there within a day or two.

Sokochan—Thanks for the review! When I decided to put the story together like this I was hoping whoever read it would associate themselves with the children, but you're the first to say anything about it, in reviews or e-mails. Of course, death to nana is not quite what I had in mind… ;)

As always, reviews, ideas and constructive criticism (misspelled or misused words, or something just plain doesn't make sense) welcome.

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"Hurry up!" The boy was nearly pulled into the room by his sisters. 

"But I don't like this story any more. Legolas shouldn't have been punished if it's something everyone does!"

His sisters rolled their eyes and pulled him farther, sitting him down in front of the bed as they sprawled on top of it, their eyes bright and eager. "We're ready, nana," the younger girl declared, wrapping a piece of hair around her finger. "Legolas was in his room at the beginning of the two months, saying it was—"

"Going to be a long two months. I remember child."

She grinned, knowing it was as much a reward as one could get from a story telling nana. 

"Well, he was sure it was going to be a long two months, and it certainly wasn't easy…."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Not even a full day had passed before Legolas was staring at the ceiling in utter and complete boredom. He had spent some time twiddling his thumbs after he wore himself out doing the exercises that could be done indoors, but his energy was rapidly returning, yet again. He was starting to get hungry, as well, since he had been so active and really had nothing else to occupy himself thinking about. Thinking about why he was here wasn't a good thing, but there wasn't much else left.

A soft noise turned his head, and he drew his sword, which he of course kept at his side except when…um, sleeping… Anyway, he drew his sword and held it ready as the tapestry hiding the secret passage began to move. An elf suddenly appeared, freezing, her eyes crossing a bit as she stared at the point which was inches from her nose.

With a slight sigh he sheathed his sword, shaking his head at her. "Salan, what are you doing here? You could well get us both in trouble."

"Why?" she asked, tilting her chin up stubbornly. "You're still in your chambers, are you not? And haven't I finished my work for the day?" Her eyes defied him, but he tried again anyway.

"You shouldn't have come."

"Why not? Give me one good reason."

"Father won't like it. Mine or yours."

"Yours will realize he never said anything about visitors coming by. Mine would never think anything wrong."

"Even though it seems I've created quite a reputation with the ladies, or haven't you heard?"

"Of course I've heard, Legolas," she murmured softly, frowning at him. "I know there have been countless times in the last hundred plus years when you have had one she-elf or another beside you in bed. I know that even before yesterday sometimes their fathers were not exactly pleased by not only your behavior but that of their daughters as well. I know you have escaped being trapped by any one of them, and that they often leave your room and even the palace in tears." She watched him with her eyes so deep with what appeared as wisdom to him, that would always surpass his own. "This matters little to me, for I am no lady, and unlike all of them, I am your friend. You shall never forget me," she sent him a small smile, "though the thought of seeing you in a room full of ladies trying to figure out not only which ones you have and have not bedded, much less their names, is going to be an amusing one probably until the sun ceases to come up in the morning."

He let out a sigh but slowly smiled, for he had humor enough to imagine such a scene, and the last day of solitude had forced him to take a hard look at the way he had been treating the she-elves who had continued to come to the palace. He wasn't exactly pleased with himself, to put it mildly. Hearing it from Salan, the one friend who had been there, helping him however she could for the last two hundred years, had only made it worse. 

Still, he could smile, because his friend she still was. "You crazy elf," he muttered, messing up her hair. Once her normal attire had changed to dresses when they could no longer go exploring like they used to, she had also stopped forever pulling her hair back into one or two long, thick braids. Now it dangled nearly to her knees. "So why did you come?"

"Keep you company for a while, and drop off some things." She turned and grabbed something from the small passage. "It should last for a while. Some things I threw in at random, because a bored mind can be incredibly clever, in a partially insane way."

He chuckled softly, recalling an incident involving string, a few sticks, some feathers, and a she-elf with long twin braids. "Very true. I was beginning to consider breaking the chair so I could whittle."

She laughed softly. "With your sword?" she teased.

"Like I said…." He grinned at her. "Are you really done? Is it nearly dinner, then?"

"Past it, actually, you should be getting yours soon…" she trailed off as they both heard soft steps near the door. She turned and ducked behind the tapestry as the door was unlocked and a serving elf laid a tray upon his dresser after Legolas called it was okay for the elf to enter. Legolas's thanks went unnoticed. "Can I call them, or what?" she grinned, popping back out when the noises had faded away. 

He smiled but was interested more in his meal, which he carried to the bed and had soon devoured as Salan sent him the occasional amused glance, looking up from the piece of cloth she was stitching. "What's that?" he asked when he was finished.

She unfolded the material, showing a large cloak like the one she had been working on for Harlyn's third birthday. "It's nearly time," she explained softly. 

"I suppose it is," he agreed, somewhat surprised by it. "It's hard to believe he's going to be a hundred…" he trailed off, a frown appearing between his brows. 

Her breath caught as she had the same thought. "Surely one day…"

"I don't know." He frowned harder, looking around. "I suppose I shall have to write to him, since I doubt he shall come to me."

"I'll take it," she offered at once.

He shook his head. "No. Unless you are sent to bring my food when I have the letter completed, no. You would get in trouble for visiting me, no matter your arguments."

She sighed but agreed, looking down at the cloak. It didn't seem fair that his punishment, _their_ punishment, would last until the morning after Harlyn's one hundredth birthday. "What will you ask?"

"That in exchange for celebrating with the family I shall remain within chambers for an extra time, whatever he desires," Legolas answered at once, already drafting the letter in his head. "Could you get me what I shall need?"

"I already have, unless you want a wax seal."

He shook his head. "Not necessary." A sudden knock took them by surprise. "Just a minute," he called loudly. Leaning to her ear, he whispered, "Go. Don't get caught, please?"

She nodded and began to leave, before hesitating at the tapestry. "Legolas—" she whispered softly.

He shook his head. 'Go' he mouthed, before calling "Enter."

It was several days before she was able to return, and there were papers scattered across the room, the books she had brought lying lazily wherever he had dropped them. "By the stars!" she exclaimed, working her way over to the bed, which appeared to be the only clean place in the room. "Did an orc attack sweep through here?" she asked the empty room, for Legolas was not to be found.

"Very funny," he muttered from behind her, the smell of soap and warm skin brushing over her as he passed her to get to his dresser. He blinked at her until she got the hint, blushing while turning around so he could dress. When he was done he eyed the bag she had brought with her eagerly. "What'd you bring me?"

She sighed softly. "Something else to destroy this once lovely room. The maid is going to have a fit when she sees this place, Legolas!"

He shrugged. "I have plenty of time to clean up a bit, and I may, from sheer boredom." 

She rolled her eyes but backed away with a shriek when he lunged for the bag. Unfortunately, her backwards step was right over a bit of wood she had brought for him to carve, sending her flat on her back on the floor, with Legolas falling on top of her. 

His eyes went wide and he swallowed, lifting himself off of her with his arms, looking down, trying to figure what the best way to move away without leaning against her again was. With a faint wince he brought his knees up, straddling her hips for a moment before arching back onto the balls of his feet, allowing him to stand. He gave her a hand as soon as he was up. "Are you all right?"

"Could you clean sooner, rather than later?"

He smiled faintly. "Sure." His eyes dropped to the bag her fingers had kept a death grip on through the fall, and she handed it over at once. When he looked up, she was already at the tapestry. "Hey! What's the rush?" he asked, not wanting to let her leave if she was angry at him. He would rather be sure she had calmed down and forgiven him first, since she was the only visitor he'd had all week. 

"I have to help Mother with some things for Harlyn's birthday."

"Is he angry at me?" he asked softly. "He has not come to visit."

She hesitated, and he closed his eyes, knowing the answer with her silence. A soft touch on his cheek made him open his eyes. "He wants you to be there for his birthday, and thinks you should have asked for that before agreeing to your punishment."

He frowned, watching her carefully. "He does not blame you, does he?"

She shook her head at once. "No. He says you should have stopped Thranduil sooner, actually. But mostly he thinks the punishment was too severe, a sentiment I'm inclined to share." A faint frown appeared between her brows, her eyes loosing some of their sparkle as she looked at him. "I hate to think how you will look at the end when a week has already taken some of your spark away." She pushed a wet piece of hair away from his face, before looking back to the door. "Put the books in the first bag when you're finished so I can return them. Any requests?"

"You've done admirably well so far," he murmured. "More than I could have hoped for, and infinitely more than I have the right to wish."

She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat at the solemn tone, and then she swept the tapestry aside and left his room as quickly as she had entered. 

Legolas thought about the mess he'd gotten himself into for a while, before the curiosity of what she'd brought him drove it away. 

About two weeks later she had only managed to visit twice, each time shorter than the last. The light in his eyes was fading, which she couldn't bear to see. His brother hadn't visited him either, though he knew Legolas had specifically requested he be allowed at any time.

Salan simply could not take it any more. She didn't care if she got in trouble, even if she was banished to another elven realm. She entered the throne room, her anger flooding her veins, but enough sense left to be glad it was only her family and the King's present. 

"What is it Salan?" her mother asked.

Salan took a deep breath, and considered how to word what she knew she shouldn't address, but really had no choice but to say. "It has been brought to my attention that there is a family of elves who is letting one of their own die." Horror flashed across their faces for an instant, so she continued quickly. "For something he did not do he was forced into confinement, his transgressions nothing for such punishment, which has lasted so long the light has begun fading from his eyes. His family has never once visited him, not even to provide him something to take his mind away from the solitude they forced upon him. Every day that goes by he sinks deeper and deeper into depression, finding it harder to smile as he sees only that his family has abandoned him. His brother, who he loves above most of the world, who he risked the wrath of their father to insure would be allowed to visit, has not done so, believing it was that elf's choice to be punished, so he should be able to endure it alone. His father has received a plea on the behalf of that brother, but has made no answer. He has a single friend who can get to him, who brings him things to do so he doesn't lose hope entirely, but that friend is kept very busy, so there is little time to be spared for him. What little company he gets, he encourages to leave quickly, so they will not bring trouble upon themselves because of their concern for him. Is this just, my lord?"

"What family would do such a thing?" Harlyn asked, frowning severely.

She looked at him steadily, her eyes dark and pained. "Your own, Harlyn." She turned to leave, but was stopped before she could exit. Mentally she kicked herself for trying, but she had not been able to stand it any longer.

"Salan!" Thranduil's voice echoed in the hall, bringing her to a stop. "Do you speak with all honesty?"

"Honesty and fear, my lord, for the light in his eyes is dying. He wished me never let it be known I have visited him the few times I have been able, but no punishment you could force upon me would be worse than seeing him lose hope and faith." She looked up at them, her eyes ancient and condemning, a single tear sliding down her cheek as she looked at Harlyn. Unable to help it any longer, she fled from the room, rushing away before any could stop her.

In the room the two families remained still for a moment. Thranduil blinked in shock, and Harlyn was the first to get to his feet, striding quickly out of the room. He didn't notice the others trailing along behind him as he went to Legolas's room. He unlocked the door and entered quickly, his heart clenching with pain when Legolas's eyes snapped up to him, a faint smile crossing his lips when he saw his brother in the door.

"Hello, Harlyn. I would say good morning, or good afternoon, or even good evening but I have lost all track of time. One is much the same as another, but I am glad you have come." The sincerity in his eyes was enough to overwhelm Harlyn, who felt like a true heel at that moment. 

He embraced his brother, the startled elf quickly returning it with a growing smile. "I am sorry I did not come sooner."

"You were angry with me," Legolas murmured, no anger in his tone, only regret. "I am sorry I did not ask for your birthday celebration when I had the chance. My only excuse is I failed to think about the dates when the sentence was proclaimed."

"It is a good excuse, which I should have accepted before now." 

Legolas smiled slightly, seeming much older in that moment than the last most of them had seen him. "You are young. I have a thousand years on you, and I am still often a foolish child."

"And I have thousands of years on you both, and wisdom sometimes escapes me as well."

Legolas looked up in surprise, seeing his family in the door. "Father?"

"Has it been so long you have forgotten me?" Thranduil asked, smiling slightly, though it was mostly forced, for his son did not look well at all. 

"I am surprised is all. I did not expect to see you until I was released for dinner." He smiled to see his mother, and then his eyes took in Salan's parents as well, growing wide with alarm. He looked quickly between them, before groaning softly and backing away. "She did it anyway, didn't she?"

"If you mean to ask if Salan made us realize how severe the punishment was, then yes."

"I told her—"

"Not to say anything so no trouble would come to her," Thranduil interrupted. "We shall deal with her shortly, after you have had a while to recover. Harlyn, would you be sure to accompany Legolas in the gardens?"

"Of course, Father."

"Father?"

Thranduil looked at his frowning son. "Your punishment has been more severe than I intended, Legolas. It is over."

He took a breath, afraid to close his eyes for fear when he opened them it would have been a dream. "And Salan?"

"As I said, we shall deal with her shortly."

"Father—"

"That will be all for now, Legolas," Thranduil insisted. Legolas was not strong enough in his resolve to argue just yet, but the determination that he be able to defend her when the time came pulled him upright, sending him after his little brother quickly as they headed straight to the gardens. Though the things Salan had brought always helped, the flowers and leaves she had brought always died quickly without sunlight if they were in pots, or simply faded and withered away because she had picked them. He breathed in the air, letting it wash over him and let go of the tension and unnatural stiffness that had crowded him because of his confinement. 

By the time dinner was ready, Legolas was nearly revived, though it always takes a while for the light to fully recover. He was well on his way, though. Salan wasn't there, obviously not quite ready to face his family, and hers, after what she had done to get him released. He had smiled faintly when Harlyn had told her what she had said, not leaving out a word as he remembered it. Legolas could picture her, her eyes flashing beneath lowered lids, her hands clenched at her sides though slightly hidden behind her back. 

Before long Thranduil had her brought before them in the throne room. She had not been informed of his release, for when she looked up and saw him sitting in the previously empty chair beside his father, her eyes widened, a joyful smile lighting them up from the inside, though she kept her face still. 

"You know why you have been brought here, do you not, Salan?"

"To hear the punishment I shall receive for visiting Legolas and disobeying his orders."

"Really?" Thranduil asked, stroking his chin with a slight frown upon his face. "I did not know you had been brought here for such a dark purpose."

She frowned faintly, looking up at him. "Then why, my lord?"

"So I and my family could properly thank you for bringing our attention to something we should never have missed." Thranduil stepped down from his throne, taking her hands between his, lifting them up for a kiss. "Thank you for saving my son," he murmured softly, his voice thick. 

Salan blinked, astonished at what was happening even as she fought back tears as the queen moved to her, bowing her head before placing a necklace with the swirling leaf design of their house around her neck. When Harlyn took her hands and kissed them, his own tears threatening, she nearly lost it completely. 

Legolas smiled at her as he came forward, the light in his eyes glowing brightly. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her forehead. "Thank you, my dear friend," he whispered softly, running his thumbs beneath her eyes as if to brush away the tears she had not yet let drop.

As if to spite her a tear slipped forth, smoothed away at once by his thumb as he held her still. Finally she couldn't help it, linking her arms about his neck as she hugged him tightly, a few more tears spilling over. After a while she sniffled softly and pulled back, trying for flippancy to help lighten the mood. "Well, if I couldn't stand to be around you, there was something seriously wrong."

He grinned, his first true grin in over a week, close to two in fact, and kissed her forehead once more before stepping back slightly. Sometimes it takes returning to the light to know how dark the darkness had been, and such had been the way for Legolas. He had been unaware of what was happening, though he knew there was something wrong when Salan fled from him, nearly in tears after one look at him on her last visit. "Twice now, you have saved my life. Perhaps someday I shall be allowed to return the favor."

"If it's all the same to you, I'd rather stay nice and safe instead of giving you the chance."

He sent her a crooked smile, before the small group was interrupted by a messenger announcing a few visitors had arrived. Meaning, some more nobles and their lady-daughters had arrived to seek a meeting with Legolas. He sighed softly but returned to his place as Salan made her escape, her hand closing over the pendant the queen had given her.

After he was let out of his room, though, Legolas was never quite the same. Not in a bad way, but in a way that surprised all around him, except perhaps his nana and Salan, both of whom knew him better than even his own parents. 

He no longer bedded the ladies who flocked to him in droves, though he would dance with them and was generally polite, though everyone has a point at which pure politeness is no longer an option and escape becomes the most important thing. Still, the change allowed him to make friends with a few of them, one encouraged enough by that that she told her father they were practically betrothed.

When Thranduil spoke to Legolas on the matter, unsure if he should offer congratulations or be irritated he hadn't been told, Legolas nearly choked on his wine. "What?"

Thranduil frowned. "I have heard it said you are betrothed to the lady Ellery."

"Well whoever said it knew not of what they spoke!" Legolas insisted, still coughing slightly since the wine had gone down wrong. "Friends we may be, but nothing more."

"You doubt that?"

"If she is the one who perpetuated this ridiculous rumor, I sincerely doubt it." He slammed down his goblet and strode quickly from the hall, hesitating as he chose where to go. One branch would lead to Ellery, the other to… He walked down there quickly, knocking on the door.

"Enter," she called. She glanced up from her book. "What's wrong now, Legolas?" Salan asked softly, not bothering to close her book.

"Have you heard a rumor?"

"Concerning your betrothal to Lady Ellery?" she asked, pouting as she set the book aside at long last. "I cannot believe you said nothing to me," she sniffled.

He rolled his eyes at her and sat down on the chest at the foot of her bed. "Salan," he murmured in annoyance.

She grinned. "I figured it wasn't true. Though it took longer than I expected for… let me guess… your father to ask you about it?" At his irritated look she laughed delightedly. "So why are you here?"

"What should I do?"

"Do you love her?"

"Not like that. Maybe not even as a friend. I can stand her company and she dances well—"

"Enough!" Salan laughed, holding up her hands. "I get the point. Obviously you cannot marry her if you do not love her, and being able to dance is hardly a good basis for an eternity of commitment." She chuckled when he paled at the word eternity. "So, why exactly are you here? I doubt you needed me to help you figure out you don't want to marry her."

"No," he agreed, scowling. "How do I break it to her since I don't even know if she's heard the rumors?"

"You realize chances are good she started it herself, one way or another."

"Of course." He frowned at her, flipping the question away with a quick move of his shoulder. "I've been dealing with them for half my life, little one, so I would hardly be my old annoying self if I didn't realize it."

She grinned. Then she frowned slightly. "Half your life? By the stars are we really that old?" She frowned harder. "It seems like so little time has gone by."

"I know, but that is time, after all." He chuckled softly. "Harlyn didn't learn from my mistake."

"But thankfully you don't have to worry about most of your past lovers comparing you to him, since they were, for the most part, married off long ago."

He winced at the idea, then looked at her pleadingly. 

She laughed softly, then let out a soft sighing 'hmmm'. "Well," she decided after a moment, "you'll have to come right out with it, I think."

"What?!?" He jumped to his feet, pacing quickly even as he ignored the crooked brow she treated him to, amusement sparkling deep in her eyes. "Are you insane?"

"Not at all. All you have to do is pace like that in her room, complaining how terrible you feel that such a silly rumor was spread. Then you can say something like how you hope it won't change your friendship with her or some such nonsense. That lets her off the hook if she started it, because she can simply say of course it won't, and it gets you off as well, because she'll get the point, unless she is extremely obtuse."

"If she was, I don't suppose I'd be able to have put up with her company for so long."

"Put up with? Do you never enjoy the company of the ladies?"

"Rarely, Salan. Very rarely indeed."

She sighed softly, standing before him. She touched his cheek softly, tilting her head at him. "Someday you'll find her, Legolas. I'm sure of it."

"How can you be?"

"Because I plan on being an honorary aunt to all the little rascals you'll produce. Just like you, complete pains they'll be, no doubt."

"No doubt," he agreed with a grin. "By then you could have a brood of your own."

She frowned. "I haven't thought about it for myself," she admitted after a while. "Maybe because you're having such a wretched time of it."

"Salan—" he began, intending to encourage her to find her own mate if she could, but she shook her head, laying a finger over his lips.

"Do not worry about me, Legolas. You have enough on your plate as it is." She smiled slightly, "Should I have children of my own, someday, I know just the royal to make their uncle."

"As long as that doesn't mean you plan on marrying Harlyn, I'll accept."

She blinked, her eyes widening. "Harlyn? You are disturbed by that rumor. Go and squelch it."

He laughed softly and strode quickly to the door before turning back to look at her, his eyes suddenly solemn. "How is Alina?"

Salan bowed her head slightly, thinking about the little princess. "Nalinalla is still very weak. We do not know how she will fare."

"No change at all?"

She swallowed, the atmosphere suddenly too heavy to breathe properly in. "None," she whispered.

Legolas closed his eyes, before hitting the doorframe with his palm as hard as he could. "What was she doing out there in the first place? Doesn't she know how dangerous it is?"

"Like we knew?"

He shook his head. "We were allowed outside, she was not. What was she doing?"

"Exploring, Legolas. Don't you remember how you loved to explore?"

"I also remember waiting until I was allowed to do so, and I took a weapon with me, no matter how incompetent with it I was." Nalinalla had been attacked by spiders in the woods, and found by Legolas the next day, when the poison had seeped deeply into her body. Though the healers had done all they could, there was little they could do now, except wait.

Salan sighed softly and watched him, her eyes dark and full of sorrow. "It is up to her now, as it has been for many days." After a moment, she frowned. "Do not blame yourself for your concern over the rumor because of her condition. She would like you to have peace."

"Even as death may give her hers?" he asked, his tone bitter. Death was not something they were accustomed to dealing with, for those were the years before the shadow grew to the point deaths among patrols and guards were more common. 

"It may, and just as easily may not. Go, speak to Ellery, then go and sit with your sister."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"What happens to the princess?" he asked as soon as I stopped.

His sisters rolled their eyes. "Think about it," the eldest snapped. "Do you know an elf named Nalinalla?"

I had to smile as they all looked at me pleadingly, but I had already continued longer than planned, so they soon marched out of my room after their round of good nights. I chuckled softly and watched the fire burn down as the starlight began to overcome the reddish lights in the room.


	7. Healing and Wise Words

"Well, shall we continue?"

"Yes!" 

A soft chuckle escaped me at the outburst, but I knew no way to make them wait longer so the story could be drawn out. There wasn't really a point to it, either, since they were already poised. "Well—"

"Nana…" the eldest hesitated after interrupting, partially because of the glares sent her way as she delayed the story, partially, perhaps, because she wasn't sure if she really wished to know the answer. "You have told us of Legolas's Ladies. Had Salan no suitors?"

I smiled faintly, closing my eyes as I recalled that point in Salan's life. "Any she-elf had suitors, child."

"But you have not mentioned any," the middle girl protested, twirling a bit of hair around her finger.

"Dear children, you must remember Salan was a servant in the palace. She knew how to be discrete if she chose, a luxury not allowed any member of the royal family most of the time. Besides, though their story runs along the same lines for much of their lives, this is Legolas's story. Salan is important at this time because they were such good friends."

"Were?" the boy asked with a frown. "You mean they aren't always good friends?"

I smiled softly but shook my head, silently reminding them such things are only spoken of in their proper time. "As I was saying, Legolas went to Lady Ellery's room…"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Legolas wandered through the halls until he felt able to leave the thought of finding his baby sister in the woods enough so he could speak to Ellery. He followed Salan's advice, and left Ellery's room knowing she had been the start of the rumor, and that she probably would not be staying around for long.

He didn't mind. He sighed as he returned to his room, shaking his head when Harlyn asked with a look if he wanted to go practice archery. He had inspired the love of it in his brother early on, perhaps as early as three years old. Instead he changed quickly, going to Nalinalla's room. 

"Wake up, Alina, we need you here."

Her pale skin remained motionless, her breath shallow as her lids didn't flicker. He sighed and sat back in the chair set to the side of the room, letting the shadows cover him, blending them to his mood. 

The door opened again and another elf entered the room. She sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing Nalinalla's fine blond hair back from her face so she could wash it with a cool cloth, the water resting on the bed between her knees, the soft smell of herbs filling the room. He recognized the smell, for it had often filled the healing rooms, and his own, on occasion. He could remember hearing soft voices calling him back from the edge of death when he had wandered too far or found too many orcs to fight alone, when he had returned to the palace on the edge of death. 

A familiar voice whispered through his head with the words the elf now spoke, calling to his sister as she had called to him. "Hear my voice, come back to the light. Light is where the children of the stars belong. Come back to those who love you." Nalinalla stirred slightly, her eyelids flickering for a minute before she fell silent once more. "Come on, Alina. Your family and friends want you to come back. No one is mad at you for this. Legolas blames himself for not finding you sooner. Come back to the light."

Legolas frowned slightly, hearing his own name included, and as the words sunk in, he sighed softly, knowing it was true though he had tried not to think about it. Salan placed her hand over Nalinalla forehead, repeating her pleas, and he slowly got up, touching her shoulder to tell her he was there, placing his hand next to and partially over hers, joining her as her words evened out to a simple spattering of words as they worked together to try and reach Nalinalla where she wandered. 

Her head moved slightly, her eyes opening for a moment before she closed them again. Salan pulled her hand away, moving his at the same time, and bathed Nalinalla's face with the cloth. After a while she passed her hands over the princess's face, smiling. "She has come back, Legolas."

"Are you sure?" he asked softly, seeing no change.

"Yes. She has returned, and shall be sleeping normally in a few days." She turned and kissed his cheek before getting off the bed. "Thank you for your help."

"You've been doing this for a while, haven't you?"

Her eyes darkened as she gathered her herb pouch from where it had fallen to the floor. "I have had success in the past," she admitted softly. "The healers knew what I was doing, she was in no danger."

He held up a hand to silence her rapid words. "I meant only to thank you."

She smiled faintly, nodding her head. She looked up after a while, her smile growing, a teasing glint appearing in her eyes. "Did you speak to Ellery?"

He rolled his eyes and followed her into the hall. "That I did. I do not believe she shall be with us for very much longer."

She stopped and whirled on him, her eyes wide. "You broke her heart?"

At his look she let out a rich laugh, letting it echo down the halls. A healer poked his head out of the door, frowning until he saw who was there. A question lit his eyes, and she nodded slightly. The elf clapped his hands together as a huge smile split his face. The two continued in companionable silence until they had to go their separate ways. 

Not two days had passed before it was announced through the halls and then through the village that Nalinalla had recovered, the result being a large feast to which everyone was invited, once the princess had gained strength enough to enjoy the dances. 

Legolas simply shook his head when he saw Harlyn charming another she-elf, a slight smile touching his lips as he recalled doing the same.

"Wishing for the good old days?" a teasing voice asked from beside him as a wine goblet was placed in his hand.

He lifted the drink in a silent toast to her before drinking of the wine. "Not hardly. I was thinking what an odd thing it seems now, that I believed myself an adult when I behaved so."

"And they were to call you a child, with such behavior?"

He chuckled softly, watching the dancing elves. "I suppose not, but still, an adult I certainly wasn't. I saw without wisdom."

"As many do, even when considered an adult."

"And some don't, even when children," he added softly, looking down at her. "You never behaved so foolishly."

"Who says?" she asked dryly. "After all, it is much easier to be discrete when you are not a prince…"

His horrified look melted away as she laughed. He closed his eyes. "You were just joking, weren't you?"

She smiled faintly, hearing the partially sincere hint to his question, though he tried to hide it with certainty, and simply watched the dancers as he watched her. When she spoke her voice was without any hint to her true experiences or emotions on that matter. She could block herself with the best of them from even the most knowing and observant of eyes. "I often learned from your mistakes. A wise elf may be called a coward for letting others go first, but he is never called a fool."

"I do not believe any could call you a coward."

"I do," she answered at once. "Or had you not noticed I have refused to wander in the dark woods alone?"

"That is not cowardice, but wisdom."

"Then you call yourself a fool for going alone?"

He grimaced. "I have been in the healing rooms frequently enough for my life to be a worthy statement of my stupidity."

"Of your courage," she protested softly. "And your skill. I am not your equal with the bow. It would need to be close combat for me to get out of the scrapes you have been in, and without the advantage of fighting from a safe distance until the arrows ran out, I would not be here, had I dared venture where you so lightly walked."

He laughed softly, the sound coaxing her head up to view his face. "It seems I envy you your wisdom and your caution, while you envy me my foolish courage." 

"All things are best when handled in moderation. We have failed to rub off on each other enough to make it to the best of what we could be."

"Ah, but if we had, we would no longer be ourselves," he smiled at her, lifting his goblet. 

She lifted her glass in an 'I'll drink to that' fashion, one brow quirked as they finished their wine, leaving the vessels on the table behind them. 

"Care to dance, my friend? It seems my policy of keeping my sheets cool has rid me of any Ladies to dance with."

"Then you would settle for a mere wood-elf, my lord?" she teased back.

He sobered at once, a frown on his brow even as he took the hand she had placed in his. "You have never and will never be a mere wood-elf, Salan." That night they danced together, trading off as their families wished, and enjoying themselves quite thoroughly, as good friends tend to do when they are together. 

But as the years passed, Thranduil became concerned his eldest son would never marry. Harlyn was already a proud father of a five year old little she-elf, and Nalinalla had attracted many suitors to the palace. Legolas, though, remained unmarried, and seemingly uninterested. 

No matter how often Legolas pointed out that not only would he live virtually forever, but Thranduil himself had been older than Legolas was before he married, still Thranduil refused to listen, encouraging him again and again to find a bride. 

"Sour once more?" Salan asked, coming upon him where he glared at the arrows he had put in the center of the target.

"He grows more persistent every century. At this rate, he will wear out my ears before I am three thousand." 

"You are merely five hundred years away from that."

He growled softly, releasing another arrow. "Don't remind me. He refuses to remember I am nearly half the age he was when he married."

"He sees Gallanya and whishes for more grandchildren, but from the son who will one day be king."

Legolas shook his head. "It is doubtful I will ever be king. The shadow grows stronger, Salan, I know you have felt it, probably stronger than have I. The elves begin to pass, not only from Mirkwood but the other realms as well. I do not feel I shall reach my three thousandth year where there is yet a trace of us on this earth."

She shivered and drew her cloak about her as if the snow were making her cold. Both knew it wasn't the snow. "Do not speak of such. I am not ready to leave this Earth behind."

"Nor I," he agreed, looking out at the bare trees of the forest. "Yet the time draws near."

"And what of the shadow? Will we leave the world to suffer without the light of the stars?"

He sighed and looked at her, seeing the strength she had in her wisdom, in the courage she denied having which shown in her eyes. "The children of the stars will leave this world in the hands of men, who will eventually destroy all we hold dear. The shadow is not the only thing we would flee from."

"Why should we who are most capable to fight flee from that which no one not of our people can truly understand? Those who have not had the time we have to study the world, to blend our lives and souls to the land until this Middle-Earth is part of what and who we are cannot begin to understand the importance of the light to the world. The world of men has already failed, the line of kings broken. You know this."

"And how do you?"

"Walls have ears," she muttered, "and when they're elfin they hear very well."

He smiled faintly at her defiance. "We yet have time, my friend. Let us enjoy it and leave such troubles for those who have more wisdom than do we."

"You say that as an excuse not to increase your own wisdom." Salan accused, frowning at the target.

"Do I?" he asked, suddenly fierce, pulling her eyes back to his. "Do you think I do not see the terror in the guards' eyes when they go outside the safety of the light? That I do not feel the pull the sea has begun to produce in our people? That I have not noticed the forest grows darker year by year?" His icy words melted away like frost held before a flame. "I have noticed, I have felt, and I have seen. The time of the elves is ending. Our people begin to leave these shores. Who will be left when we are gone? Who will fight the shadow? Men? Dwarves? Those half-lings Gandalf is so fond of?" He shook his head. "I cannot see what lies ahead. Is it little wonder I choose once in a while to remain a prince instead of trying to think like a king?"

She sighed softly and closed her eyes before placing her hand on his arm, stopping his shot. "You were born to be many things, Legolas. An archer and a warrior you have already become. A King you nearly are, though you have not a people to rule."

"What is a King without people?"

She smiled faintly. "Happy, I imagine."

He smiled slightly at her words, at the image of a crowned king chatting gaily with himself as he poured himself some wine. "Or out of his mind."

"Perhaps. When the time is right," she nodded her head, "you will be a great king. And before that, I think you shall have a great obstacle to overcome, for that is the making of all great stories, and you know someday nana will tell your story to your children, and the children of others."

He shuddered theatrically. "By the stars I hope not."

She laughed softly and ran her fingers along the line of his favorite bow, tracing the silver leaf design. "A bow is not a weapon, Legolas, it is a tool, made of wood, nothing more. Words have no meaning, they are merely letters grouped together. But when one with power, strength and wisdom picks up either, others take notice. With one, it is for but a second before death takes them. With the other, they stay with the ones who hear them for the rest of time. Choose your tools wisely, wherever your path may lead you."

Her words stayed with him for may years, and he often wondered how she had gotten to be so wise when she spent most of her time either alone or with him. One day it struck him that some of his wisest moments had happened when he was alone, when he had nothing but his thoughts. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Well, I believe that shall have to be the end for tonight."

"Nana! You can't stop now! It's almost to the good part!"

I stared at him for a moment, one brow arched and the other drawn in a frown. He blushed and looked down before his sisters could berate him. With belabored sighs they all got up, kissed my cheek and said their good nights, leaving just as their mother opened the door to get them. 

"You know, you could spend time with your husband rather than chasing them off to bed," I murmured when they had left.

She smiled at my words, a teasing glint shining in her eyes along with a peaceful contentment that could only come from love. "You have kept them so late, nana, I have already spent time with my husband." Her smile broadened at my blink, and she skipped lightly from the room, eternally as youthful as her face. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note: All right, don't hate me. I only read sokochan's review before writing this. As a result, though I did go back and alter nana's intro a bit, I already had Salan's lack of noticeable suitors solved before I found out you guys wanted them. If you all really don't like that, let me know, and I'll see if I can work some in sometime, but I have an idea which doesn't really add any male elves in Salan's life that way. 

Thanks to everyone who e-mailed or reviewed, and a few in particular, like Kaylee, my constant reviewer, and superchick, who probably gave me the best review anyone could dare hope for. Thanks!

Sort of to Kaylee, but let me know what the rest of you think… I'm considering writing up a sort of side story about Harlyn. You'll learn more about him later in this fic, but would anyone out there be interested in the full and true story?


	8. A Hobbit, Dwarves, War, and Legolas's La...

"Did you have a good day, my darling little ones?"

The eldest smirked at me as she nudged her brother into the room. "Some of us did, nana," she agreed, pushing him into a sitting position on the floor as she again took the bed, half sitting, half laying upon it. 

"What happened?" I asked, as if I had not already heard from several sources. How else am I to gain stories to tell their children when they have them? I cannot be everywhere at once.

"I lost three arrows," he admitted, depressed.

"And nearly shot Mother's horse. With Mother on it."

"Father caught the arrow," he protested at once. 

"And if he hadn't been walking beside her? She could have been thrown and hurt!"

"Not here, child." I cut in sharply, not willing to let that thought go unchanged in his mind for more than an instant. "No one dies in these lands. These are the undying lands, or have _you forgotten your history? I can see in any case I need to add in a story I had skipped over." I settled back in my chair, watching the stars and the fire fight to bathe them in silver or copper light. "Back in the days when Legolas and Salan were learning to defend themselves—"_

"Nana, couldn't you just continue with the story where you were and tell us that later?"

I frowned at her, crossing my arms in annoyance. "Perhaps I shall tell you no stories at all."

"No, nana! Please, tell us of when they were learning," he asked, his eyes wide as he overrode what his sister had asked.

I smiled at him. "It was a short story anyway. Let us just say he nearly shot his own toe off, and Salan had to run away before she exploded into laughter and thereby incurred his wrath. All right, where were we?"

"I cannot for certain say. Legolas was at least twenty-five hundred years old, but then you said her words stayed with him."

"So I did," I agreed. "Yes, her words stayed with him for a long time, but…"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

But Legolas still had his father to deal with, and his father still wished him to get married. It was a plague to Legolas, a blight on the years he could spend in Middle-Earth, for he knew they were limited. No arguments he could make would convince his father otherwise, so after a long while of fighting, he gave in.

To a degree, anyway. His associations with the Ladies had been pleasant and without bad feelings since he had been forced into his room for three weeks, so he found one he liked above the others, and spent time with her when he had it to spare. With two younger siblings, a best friend, and archery to work in along with his duties as the eldest prince of Mirkwood, there was very little of it for her, but she lapped it up, reveling in his attention, not seeing it was given begrudgingly at best. 

Salan did her best to help bring them together, for she knew it was a last ditch effort on Legolas's part before he gave up completely—either to a loveless marriage or a life devoted to staying single she wasn't sure. Neither was a good option, so she tried however she could. 

Hardly ever did the prince see the lady, though, so falling in love was hardly an option since the love at first sight idea had never been one of the ones he believed in, though he knew several now married elves who swore by it. Over the next few hundred years things stayed much the same, but with another person taking some of his time for herself.

It got to the point that he was glad to take messages for his father, or go out on patrols. Sometimes Harlyn would go with him, and Salan usually made sure he had plenty of way bread, whether he mentioned he was going or not. It never ceased to make him smile, finding a leaf covered piece of way bread in his quiver when he stopped to rest. 

He returned from one such message trip to find a hush spread over the hall. Intruders had been found, and captured. Thirteen dwarves, in fact, not a one of them telling where they were headed, how they wound up in Mirkwood, or why they had attacked the feast that had been held in the forest. No doubt you have heard the story before, from Gandalf, I'd wager, but now hear it from Salan's view, since I doubt you shall suffer yourselves to hear her story after this. 

Salan was not at the fateful feast in the forest, but in the palace. She was there when the first dwarf was brought in, and what a queer being she thought him! She had never seen a dwarf before, nor in fact had she seen a man, for she had never been beyond Mirkwood. The other companions were no less odd to her mind, and she never did become used to them, no matter how often she volunteered to give them their food so she could see them. 

Though she had never seen them before, she had seen shadows move, and when shadows moved there was a cause for it. Soft, tiny footsteps followed, sometimes her, sometimes someone else, up and down the corridors and stairs. Finally she closed her eyes and grabbed a large bag, attacking the thing she heard. 

When she opened her eyes the bag was wriggling dreadfully, so she pulled the dagger from her boot, for she was wearing her leggings that day, having been riding, and she held it to the bag, warning it to keep still and quiet or she would have blood pouring from it, whether she could see it or not. 

She took it to her room, and tied it up carefully, finding the head and cutting the bag away from it when she was sure it was secure. When she could still see nothing, she looked around, her eyes falling on some of her powdered herbs. She threw them on the thing in the bag, and could suddenly make out a small face. 

"What are you?" she asked, even as the dust was absorbed into the invisibility that cloaked the thing.

"Bilbo Baggins, of the Shire," it squeaked amidst sneezes. 

"What are you doing here, and what dark magic shields you from our eyes?"

"It is not dark magic at all!" he protested, becoming visible once again. "But my friends are in the dungeons, unfairly imprisoned."

"Unfairly?" she asked, lifting a brow. "That is not what I heard." Still, she had been around Thranduil on his good days—those that didn't involve a lesson for one of his children or had anything at all to do with dwarves—and she had a bit of wisdom herself, though she always thought Legolas was mostly teasing her about that. "Tell me your tale," she instructed. The terrified little being did just that, his eyes darting to her knife and the sword at her waist. 

When he had finished, she knelt in front of the bag, looking into his eyes for a long moment. She saw he was frightened, but also defiant, as if daring her not to believe him. She smiled slightly. "I see," she murmured. "Tell me, what is a hobbit, and where is the Shire? I have not been outside of Mirkwood, but I have studied maps, and I have heard little of the Shire, save from Gandalf. He loves to speak of the half-lings that dwell there. Have you seen them?"

"I am one!" He insisted, studying her intently. "You know Gandalf?"

"Of course. Lovely fireworks. He set some off for my two thousandth birthday." She smiled at Bilbo and at the memory, and suddenly Bilbo was reminded of his stay in Rivendell and the elves there. He was reassured, but his friends were still in the dungeons. 

He followed Salan everywhere after that, and she showed him not only where his friends were, but the way he eventually used to escape. He knew what she was doing, and stopped on the day he made their escape just before lifting the guard's keys. "Won't this get you in trouble?"

"Only if it is ever found out," she murmured, looking him straight in the invisible eyes. 

He nodded his head. "True," and at that moment sent her silent thanks for what she had done, including finding food for him often through the day, and he promised himself he would never tell of her help, for her sake. "Good bye, milady," he murmured, bowing from the waist, forgetting she couldn't see him. 

"Namarie, Bilbo Baggins," she returned, a bit on the glad side she would no longer need to use the common tongue with which she was not very familiar with. Of course, she and Legolas had both been taught it, along with a few other languages, just as a matter of course. 

The thirteen dwarves escaped that day, escaped even as the elves welcomed Legolas back into the mountain. When he heard about the dwarves, he wished to see them, but the cells were empty when he arrived. 

Confused and annoyed, he went to the archery field for a while, then decided to find Salan since the Lady Lemarha was thankfully busy until after dinner. He found her in her room, gathering up a bit of cloth that looked like it had been laid upon the floor as bedding. He frowned at her as she hummed a tune he had never heard before as she moved, not having heard him approach. 

"What do you know of the dwarves?" he asked suddenly, making her turn quickly around to face him, a touch of guilt coloring her features and clouding her eyes. "You know more than any other, I see." After so many years, he had come to be a great reader of faces and eyes, especially those of his family and hers. 

"And if I do?"

"I wish to know."

After watching him for a long moment, she sighed and motioned for him to get comfortable, and then told him Bilbo's story. She tried to decide from Legolas's eyes how he felt about her assistance of the little hobbit, but for the longest moment there was nothing. Then amusement sparkled in his eyes as laughter bubbled in his throat. 

"I knew it was unwise to leave you unattended for so long," he teased. He smiled at her expression of annoyance, before sobering quickly. "But I believe you did right. Though I would have preferred it be a party of hobbits than dwarves."

She shrugged. "I as well, but I have not known any dwarves to truly judge them. Bilbo spoke in awe of the elves, despite his associations with the dwarves." She laughed suddenly. "Or perhaps because of it. He seemed to enjoy his time in Rivendell." Her eyes turned to him, her head tilting.

He knew what she was asking of him and settled himself more comfortably in his chair, telling her all about the places he had been, seen, and the elves he had spoken to while he was away. They were called to dinner just as he finished, so together they walked to the dining hall, where Lady Lemarha was waiting for him. She glared daggers at Salan, as if the poor elf had contrived to keep Legolas away from her instead of the precise opposite. Legolas, though, was greeting his niece, and never saw the look which tore into Salan. She knew if Legolas married Lemarha, her days of calling him friend and their plan of being there for the other's children were gone, never to be seen nor heard from again. 

But as long as he was happy, she would content herself with 'having known him when', and so she said nothing about that look, not that she would have been inclined to in the first place. Her friend he may be, but the prince as well, and in such situations if the Lady denied it, it was more likely he would do his duty and at least pretend to believe the Lady if the accusations were made in the presence of others. Alone he would almost certainly assure her he believed her, but the public rebuke would have been hard to deal with if it came from him.

Time went by, quietly for only a very short while before trouble started up because of the dwarves. You know the story, and there is little to tell of it beyond that. Salan was forced to remain behind, not that she minded very much, the idea of dealing with men, dwarves and a dragon was all a bit much, in her opinion. Instead she stayed in Mirkwood, tending to the wounded when they returned. 

Legolas opened his eyes after a day of unconsciousness to see Salan's eyes waiting for him. She smiled at him quickly before he slipped back into darkness from the poison of his wound. When he next awoke, it was Lemarha beside him, her face streaked with tears as she twisted her hands in her lap. With a soft noise, Salan entered the room, only to be ordered out by Lemarha.

"No," he protested weakly, getting a startled look and then a painful hug from the Lady who was sitting in the chair beside the bed. "Salan," he pleaded softly.

"Milady, you are on his wound," she murmured touching Lemarha's shoulder. The Lady snapped away from the injured prince, allowing Salan room to sit beside him on the bed. "I am going to change the dressing, milady. It would be best that you leave."

"I will not!" she declared haughtily, glaring scornfully at Salan.

"Very well," Salan murmured, her eyes hard but her voice quiet. She opened Legolas's shirt and pushed it from his shoulder, removing the bandages quickly until she came to the layers that were caked in blood. These she removed slowly, careful she didn't reopen the wound. 

"How bad is it?"

"You're alive, aren't you?" she teased softly. She looked at it. "You've had worse." 

Legolas frowned slightly and watched her concentration as she leaned over him. "You tended me before. I was your successes, wasn't I?" His voice was quiet with weakness and the revelation.

"Healing is in my blood, though not as strong in me as I could wish. For those I care about the gift is stronger, which is why you were able to help with Nalinalla, for though underused, you have the gift as well." She took the bowl and began bathing the wound, the soft herbs helping ease the tension in his muscles. 

"So how many times have you saved my life, then?"

"Such healing is hard to be sure of. You have a great will to live, always have. Even the poison cannot overcome that. You never teetered as Nalinalla did. If you were too injured to return, you waited until your body had healed enough you could, but there was never a question once the poison was drawn." She was winding a bandage around his wound once more, securing it by tucking the end in. "You must remain still for a few days, Legolas. Otherwise the wound will reopen. If you have trouble with that, I know how to make a sleeping potion."

He smiled faintly and laid back. "How did we do?"

"The battle had a high number of casualties on all sides, as is the way with war. Your father and brother are well. We lost several of the guards and two complete patrols, but compared to the other armies, we were very light on casualties."

He nodded with a weary sigh. "I don't think I shall be protesting rest, my friend. Even now it threatens to take me away."

"Then let go. There is no fear, now that you have returned."

"Besides that of the growing shadow."

"Besides that," she agreed, mopping his brow clean of sweat. "Sleep," she insisted softly. 

He smiled again and touched her cheek. "Thank you."

She smiled back and returned the soft touch, kissing his forehead as his eyes closed once more, allowing his mind rest along with his body. Ignoring the daggered look she was getting from Lemarha she left him sleeping peacefully, going to check on his family. For, though not injured as seriously, all of the males in the royal line had been injured.

"How is he?" Harlyn asked as the queen fussed with Thranduil's bandage, which began coming loose since he hadn't been resting.

"He is with us, though Lemarha shall be asking for my head on a platter since she undoubtedly believes I overstepped myself by asking her to move aside when she threw herself over him."

Harlyn chuckled softly, his eyes sparkling. "I'm surprised he didn't throw her off himself."

"Harlyn!" Thranduil barked.

"Even if it had been Lolanya, I would have thrown her off if she landed on a wound." This was said with a smile, for Lolanya was a bewitching beauty who stunned all who saw her. Harlyn was still enraptured by her beauty, though their marriage had of course been built on deeper emotions.

Thranduil blinked and shrugged slightly, upsetting the queen as she was forced to start over. He turned questioningly to Salan.

She nodded slightly. "She was on the wound, causing him pain great enough he did not have the strength to fight it and her. If looks could kill, you would have her before you for murder, and I would be stretched out on the floor."

Harlyn chuckled once more, ignoring the pain as she worked on stitching the wound in his side. "And now?"

"He went completely back into unconsciousness, whether she likes it or not."

Harlyn grinned, for he still remembered Salan using him to help Legolas out on occasion. She always asked if he was willing, of course. "How long is he stuck in his room?"

"I told him a few days, but he'll probably be pushing by tomorrow."

Thranduil chuckled at that, but before he could speak a court messenger entered, saying Lemarha wished to speak with him on grave matters. Salan let out a resigned sigh. "I shall be either here or in the healing rooms, Thranduil," she murmured, finishing her stitches without looking up.

He nodded and pulled his tunic into place, moving quickly into the hall where the Lady was waiting. "Speak quickly, Lemarha. Both of my sons are wounded, and I wish to be with them."

"I want to speak with you about Legolas, my lord."

"What of him? He is going to be well."

"No thanks to the wood-elf who is forever following him around." Her nose crinkled in distaste.

"If you mean Salan—"

"Yes, sire, I do."

"If you mean Salan," he repeated sternly, his glare reminding her not to interrupt the king, "then your worries are very much misplaced. She has been his constant companion since he was three hundred, and they explored the forest together for many years. Their friendship has been strong longer than my second son has been alive, and no one could break it, should they be inclined to try. Salan is part and parcel when you deal with Legolas. Already they have agreed to be important in the lives of the other's children, as my wife did with Salan's mother years ago. If you object to Salan, you object to Legolas, for he will not place his friendship aside, willingly or otherwise." He glared at her for a moment longer, then began to turn away. "As for Salan, she has saved his life and his pride more times than either he or I can count, more so than we are probably aware of if we were inclined to try. Even if that assistance puts her in jeopardy." 

"She loves him, then?"

"They are the greatest of friends," Thranduil agreed, watching a frown enter her eyes. "But that which you ask for has not occurred to them."

"Or to him. She may have thought of it."

At her bitter tone he turned sharply to her. "And if she has? What then? She knows he has not, _if_ she has, and would do nothing to hurt him or drive him away. Time and duty has done that too much already." Thranduil frowned at the she-elf, wondering why his son had chosen to settle upon this one. The sick feeling in his stomach made him turn away as he realized it was probably because of his insistence. Recalling a similar time in his own past, he vowed to stop pressuring Legolas. At least for a few thousand years. He left Lemarha standing in the hall, confusion and speculation on her face. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A great noise interrupted, and sent the children to the window. "Look!" 

With a slight smile I got up and stood behind them, watching the fireworks Gandalf was setting off. "Go watch from your balcony, we shall continue tomorrow night." 

"What are they for, nana?"

"Your mother's birthday, I wouldn't wonder."

"But that's not until tomorrow."

"But tomorrow shall be cloudy and rainy. Your father probably convinced the wizard to do it tonight as a surprise."

They ran quickly from the room, all crowding onto their balcony where I could glimpse them from the corner of my eye as I watched the colors burst in the air for a while before going to bed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: What can I possibly say? Don't you just want to smack Lemarha? Vindictive little thing, isn't she?

Reviews and ideas welcome!


	9. Hope for men, and Crossings

Author's Note: Another chapter for you! (And just so you don't freak, in the next week I have three exams, three papers and an ethnography to read, so updates will NOT come, no matter what, until at least Friday.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three contented elf children lazed their way into the room, their stomachs full from the feast which had run late, their eyes slightly tired by the unceasing dances they had witnessed or joined in. The two older children carried goblets of water in with them, trying to help take the edge off the wine they had consumed, some of which they brought to me. 

Seeing the state they were in, I decided it best to simply begin, though I vowed to keep an eye on them and be sure they were listening. "Not many years after that…"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was not long after the war of the five armies that an unusual messenger came to Thranduil's hall. He gave a message to the king, and after the formalities were laid aside, he asked his way to the archery field. When questioned by the king, he replied he had been told to give another message to Legolas, the elder prince of Mirkwood. If he was not in the throne room, he had been told to ask after the archery field, for there the prince would probably be.

Thranduil chuckled at that, and ordered him shown the way. 

The man, for human he was indeed, looked around the field, seeing several archers, all blond as he had been told the prince was. He was about to frown in discouragement when he looked at the targets, seeing only one was consistently hitting the center. When the elf doing so turned to speak to the she-elf beside him, the man knew he had found the right elf, for he and his brother, who had been in the throne room, did strongly resemble each other. 

"Prince Legolas?" he asked, coming forward. Two pairs of eyes focused on him immediately as he moved to them, those of the female somehow more intimidating, despite the drawn sword the other held up. 

"Speak quickly," she ordered, never looking away, though he found it difficult to hold her gaze long despite his upbringing. 

"I was sent as a messenger from Imladris," he explained quickly. "I have a message for Legolas from Elrond and his sons."

Legolas lifted a brow, but took the letter. After a sidelong glance at the she-elf, he sheathed his sword and began reading after breaking the seal. His other brow joined the first, and a look of quiet determination settled in his eyes, the last hints of humor gone. Standing before the messenger now was a warrior who would one day be king, and the man knew it.

Legolas looked at the she-elf, then motioned at him. "Salan, meet Estel, ward of Elrond."

"Hope," she murmured softly, studying him for a long moment. "The world of men could use hope in these times." 

Estel looked at her, assessing her and her position beside the prince. He recalled the way Legolas had looked to her before relaxing his defense. "You are the prince's companion?" he asked softly.

She laughed softly, lifting her eyes to the prince's. "I am his friend, and have been for many years. If you ask about the _companion in his bed, then you need to discuss Lemarha with him."_

Legolas frowned at her. "Salan," he protested softly.

She laughed again, touching his cheek lightly. "I told you long ago it is hard to be discreet as a prince. The walls do have ears."

"And they are most often yours, I've found," he replied dryly.

After laughing softly she bowed her head to Estel, then nodded slightly at Legolas. "I should be returning." She left before he could think to ask her to leave them be.

Legolas turned from watching her to study the young man before him. "You are quite young."

"Yes. The news you hold I was only recently told myself."

Legolas nodded slightly, folding the letter and placing it away. "Why did they send you to me, Aragorn?"

"They felt I should learn archery, and that you would be the best to teach me." He looked pointedly at the target, but Legolas shook his head.

"This is not a fair comparison. I have been doing this for nearly a thousand years longer than anyone now here. There are those in Mirkwood who are greater at archery than I," he added, looking at Aragorn in consideration. "But despite the things Salan knows, the things that are not spoken of are generally safe, even if my movements are known."

"I take it she is a great friend?"

"A great, and a wise one."

"Then she did know?"

Legolas chuckled softly, looking at the target. "Salan may never have been out of Mirkwood, but she knows of Elrond, and that a human messenger must be dear to him for him to have been sent here. Your perfect grasp of our tongue and the amount of time you could stand up to her tells her you are a being of strength and that you have long been in Elrond's care. He has spoken to my father of you, through letters alone, but walls do have ears, and whatever they hear ends up almost immediately in her head. If she does not know your name, I would be more surprised than if she did." He recalled the way she had bowed her head. "The world of men could indeed use hope."

Aragorn, heir to the throne of Gondor, found a friend in Legolas, and a mystery in Salan that day, and his archery lessons went well and quickly, though Aragorn was sometimes waylaid by elves who wished to know about him since he was human. One day he simply could not find Legolas, and even asking the servants in the palace did him no good. Finally in frustration he asked one, "What of Salan, then? Know you where she is?"

"Ah, yes, Salan will be in her room, working on stitch work for Gallanya's birthday cloak."

With a faint frown he followed the directions, knocking softly on the door. "It is open, Estel," she called through the door, knowing him by the noise he made because he was not an elf. She was sitting at a desk, material spread around her. "What do you need?" she asked, looking up after laying the needle and silver thread carefully aside. 

"No one knows where Legolas is."

She laughed softly, glancing at her work. Then, with a shrug, she got up. "Come on." She led him down to the kitchens, taking a leaf wrapped object before leading him outside after being sure he had his weapons. She put one hand on her sword for an instant as the guard looked at them in question, before letting them pass. She walked quickly through the woods, never pausing to check her direction or listen, her dress trailing lightly behind her. She suddenly stopped, whistling a shrill tone, much like a song bird, but in pitch alone. An answering note came from not far off, and she turned her head, smiling faintly. She handed him the leafy thing she had gotten in the kitchens and pointed him in the direction of the noise, turning without another word, leaving him with only the memory of her faint smile to encourage him.

He sighed softly and walked to the sound's source, hoping this wasn't an elven joke of some kind he didn't know of. He got as far as he guessed the sound could have carried, and looked blankly around. "Legolas?"

A soft sound turned his head. An arrow stood next to a few others, the archer nearly invisible in the darkness, for a cloak was drawn about him. The archer turned slightly. "At least you brought your bow," he murmured softly, drawing closer. A slight smile tilted his lips when he saw what Aragorn held. "I thought it was her," he murmured, taking the bundle. After unwrapping it, he gave a piece of it to Aragorn. 

"She seemed to be the only one to have an idea where you were."

Legolas smiled faintly, and returned to shooting. "I thought it would have taken her a little longer to hear."

"Hear?"

Legolas shook his head. "Nothing of lasting importance, Estel." With that, he launched into corrections and praises as the man continued learning the form of war Legolas so enjoyed. By the end of the day, they were both sure nothing except time and experience could improve the man, so arrangements were made for him to return to Imladris, where he would gather his things and say his farewells before going into the wild to find what remained of his kin. 

Before they parted for the day, Estel caught a glimpse of Salan where she moved at the side of the hall, unnoticed for the most part by those eating within it. "How did she know where you were?"

"She usually knows where I go when I can no longer stand to be within the reach of those who would tie me down." Legolas's eyes lingered briefly on the lady Estel had been introduced to, the lady Lemarha. He didn't think it a good match, but said nothing then, for he knew it wasn't his place. Legolas turned back to him. "You shall be welcomed wherever I dwell, Estel, for as long as I walk upon this earth."

"Which shall not be long. Already many—"

"Leave these shores. My heart has not yet turned from the land of my birth, though." He shrugged slightly. "Being the eldest, I may remain here when my father first goes, keep the stragglers in order until there is no choice but to cross." He frowned slightly, pinning Aragorn with a look. "But that all depends on the future."

"Doesn't everything?"

Legolas smiled slightly, seeing the promise in the lad before him. "True. Farewell, my friend."

Not long after that, Estel was gone, and Legolas found his way to Salan's room. "How did you know?"

"Know what?"

"Why I was where I was."

She frowned slightly, then smiled faintly. "I didn't know the reason you were there, Legolas. Just that that was where you would go if no one knew where you were. Since then I have heard rumors…" She smiled at his disgruntled expression. "What are you going to do?"

"Sleep on the balcony," he muttered, shaking his head. Lemarha had move many of her things into his room after their single night together. "What made her think—"

"You did. How many years have you given her some of your time? Last night you gave her more. She thinks it to be a sign of things to come, rather than the amount of wine you consumed." She frowned sternly at him. "And since I warned you your ears were getting rosy, I don't really want to hear about how you were drunk and didn't know what you were doing. You felt like getting tipsy."

He sighed but didn't respond, because she was right on all counts. Of course, since the wine usually made it easier for him to stand Lemarha, he had ignored Salan's comment. He hadn't expected the wine would make it _that much easier, though. "How about advice for the nearly ensnared prince who would still rather be free?"_

She sighed softly and shook her head at him. "You should know all of the possibilities by now."

"I recall what you've told me in the past, but this is a new situation for me." He watched her with a pleading look that made him look about two hundred years old instead of close to three thousand. 

She rolled her eyes and exhaled sharply. "Why must I get you out of your messes? Why can't you find a way yourself?"

Legolas frowned at her tone, as it was one he'd not heard turned at him for a long time. "Am I bothering you, Salan? Taking time you wished for something else?" Neither thought had occurred to him before. 

She bowed her head and shook her head, slowly lifting her gaze to his. "No. But if I forever tell you what to do, how will you ever figure it out for yourself?"

"You aren't planning on being there for me?" he asked, yet another thing he'd never considered. 

She tilted her head as she studied him. "What if I can't be? What if you get sent off somewhere and get in trouble there? Or what if I cross before you?"

He straightened at the last one. "You wish to cross?"

She shook her head. "No, but…" She bowed her head and sighed again. "It grows in my parents."

Legolas closed his eyes and swallowed, feeling like the selfish, spoiled little brat she had once accused him of being. He moved to sit behind her on the chest, pulling her back into his arms, wrapping them tightly about her. After a moment she sighed softly and relaxed, turning in his arms so she could rest her cheek against his shoulder. "I'm sorry, little one," he murmured, kissing her crown as he stroked her hair and back. "When do they leave?" he asked softly, knowing she would only get so agitated if it were soon. Thinking back on their conversation he winced, knowing he should have known something was wrong long before he had. 

"They think to plan for the coming mid-summer's eve." She sighed softly and traced the silver pattern on his tunic, thinking of the time her mother had spent on it. 

"Do they wish you to go with them?"

"Of course."

He frowned, trying to imagine what life would be like without her there, but found it impossible. After all, for all but two hundred years of his life he had seen her nearly every day. "Yet you do not wish to cross."

"No."

"Why?"

"I am not tired of this Earth."

"You know why they leave."

"Yes," she sighed, making an impatient movement with her hand. "They leave because the shadow grows ever stronger. They do not think about the world they are leaving behind as anything but a place of death and mortality."

"Then it is their time to cross. You are old enough to remain here on your own."

"I am unmarried. By rights, I should go with them."

He frowned at her. "Since when have you gone with what should be done?"

She sighed softly. "How can I refuse them, when I still exist as I have since I was born?"

"You have a place in these halls, whether they remain here or not. Do not doubt it."

A soft smile touched her lips and she slowly moved from his hold, getting up only to bend slightly, kissing his forehead. "Thank you, my friend. But I do not know what will happen." She picked up the piece of material she had been stitching and laid it aside, before turning back to him with the ghost of a smile. "What are you going to do?"

He smiled faintly, more concerned about her than his temporary problem with Lemarha. He shrugged. "I don't know. It'll work itself out."

She smiled at him, sitting next to him on the chest. "Why not have her things sent back to her room? As if she left them laying somewhere, have them returned as discretely as possible. Then lock your door after you do, so she can't replace the stuff while you're at dinner."

"You think she's that devious?"

For the first time, Salan laughed. "I think you'd best watch your back, lest the claws of a she-elf find their way deep between your ribs."

He chuckled softly at the image of himself impaled on claws, and tussled her hair before smoothing the locks back into place. "It will all work out in the end."

"In the end, yes, but when the story is about elves, the telling itself may take many days."

He laughed softly at her repetition of their nana's favorite saying before getting up. "Would it help if I asked Father to offer official guardianship?"

She looked up at him, a frown settling between her brows. Before she could complain, he interrupted.

"I will ask him to present it in such a way they don't feel you wish to be parted from them. Surely they understand your heart is still in our forest." When she smiled faintly and nodded he left her, moving to the throne room quickly to discuss just that with his father, only to find her father discussing their impending crossing, with Salan included in their planning. 

Thranduil motioned Legolas away, but he hesitated only for a moment before intruding. "If I may ask," he murmured softly, "are you sure Salan wishes to cross?"

"Why wouldn't she?" he asked.

Legolas frowned slightly. "Her heart is yet here. Do you wish her to leave it behind before her time?"

"She has not wed, so her place is with her parents."

Legolas felt the floor quake beneath him, but managed to keep his voice relatively steady. "She is old enough to be a grandmother. Should she remain with her parents merely because she has no more found her mate than have I?"

The two elder elves exchanged a glance. "I believe she has spoken to you on this matter," her father said after a pause.

"I came from her room to speak with my father about it," he agreed softly. "She does not wish to cross, but does not wish to defy her parents either, nor to be separated from them. Still, her choice was to remain here."

"And what would you have spoken to me of?" Thranduil asked softly.

"Offering to take guardianship of her until she passes to the havens. I would offer myself, but I doubt it would be thought appropriate since we grew up together, and I would declare her the wisest of us two in many things." Sometimes he wondered if because of his travels, he had perhaps surpassed her in some things. After all, Aragorn wasn't the first human _he_ had met.

The elves looked at the prince for a long moment, silent communication flaring between them for a moment. "Very well, Legolas. If she wishes to remain here, her mother and I shall allow it."

Legolas bowed his head, his eyes catching on Thranduil's for a moment. The king smiled faintly. "Your friend shall have to get used to being called Lady, if she becomes my ward. Perhaps it would be better that she remain on her own strengths and abilities."

Legolas smiled faintly and bowed his head again, turning to tell Salan the news. 

And so it came to pass that Salan remained in Middle-Earth though her parents passed to the undying lands. Also, Lemarha learned not to over expect anything from spending a night with the prince. Actually, that didn't often occur, usually only when his ears had turned ruddy from wine, and his eyes ceased to focus perfectly. 

The shadow grew in all corners of the world, Gandalf and the other Istari doing what they could to help stop it, often relying on some assistance from the elves which was sometimes willingly and other times grudgingly given. 

The years of the great wars drew closer, and those elves remaining who either had the more sensitive high blood or the wisdom of such blood felt it, the slight shivering of light within them that battled to grow brighter to counteract the darkness. Salan grew more watchful, along with many of the others, those who remained on those shores, anyway. Legolas felt it as well, just as keenly as any other, felt it growing stronger, darkening their world. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"I think that will be enough for tonight." They were listening intently, but once I stopped they nearly dropped with exhaustion, slowly picking themselves up to say goodnight and pass on to their rooms. 

I could not help but chuckle.


	10. Another Look

Bright, eager eyes awaited me when I entered my chambers. "I think not!" I declared, and sent them away. 

A few hours later, when the sun had begun to set as it was meant to before they arrived, they returned, cautiously entering, worry in their eyes that they would be punished for their eagerness by having the story put off for another night. 

When I smiled they visibly relaxed, all three of them stretching out on my bed, elbow to elbow, each pair of hands propping up one of the three heads. Silvery light covered one and a half heads, the coppery warmth of the fire the remaining head and a half. 

"Well you know of the great wars I know, for I have heard Gandalf and Legolas tell you…"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Gollum entered the control of Mirkwood, since Aragorn and Gandalf had captured him, and together they had decided Mirkwood would be a good place in which to imprison the creature. They both specifically requested Salan look after him in part, but she was so disturbed by the hollow hunger and longing she could see combined with the much more pitiful aspects of him that not even Legolas's request could get her to comply. The King of course did not force her, for she had worn the same look as she had when Legolas was fading after her initial meeting with the creature. 

Still, she offered advice on his care, but her wariness wore off on Legolas, ultimately saving his life, for the guards who had let Gollum climb a tree were slain as he escaped. Knowing only that Gandalf's request in the matter meant it to be important, and having felt the evil within Gollum, residual evil that clung to him like the smell of rotten fish, Legolas felt it his duty to inform the wizard of his escape, a duty Thranduil did not deny. 

Salan met him in his room before he was ready to leave for Imladris, bringing with her several wafers of way bread for his journey, more for habit than thinking he would need it, for she knew some had already been packed. He smiled faintly, for the loss of the guards along with the creature they had sworn to watch over rested heavily upon him. She sighed and touched his cheek, making him look at her. 

"You were lucky. You could not have known it was to happen. It was merely my distrust of the creature turning you from that path, not anything you saw but failed to see which could have saved them."

"How can you be so sure about that?" he asked, thinking again of the large, hollow eyes.

She smiled faintly. "Because once I refused your request you began avoiding him. Not only when he was allowed out into the forest."

After a moment he nodded, accepting the truth of what she said even if he still felt the sorrow for the death of those he had known. "Thank you, little one," he murmured, kissing her forehead before moving to strap his quiver and knives to his back. He froze when she paused him, attaching something to his belt at the small of his back. 

She smiled softly when he turned to look at her in question. "A throwing dagger," she explained. "You may not find it worth carrying, but please do."

He frowned, touching her cheek. "Why are you so worried for a message being delivered?"

"Something stirs, evil draws closer even now." She looked to the side, as if she could see through the stone to the world beyond Mirkwood. "Things do not always go according to plan." Running a finger over the silver leaf pattern on his bow, she caught him with her eyes. "Anything, when in the right hands, can be a single star in a sea of darkness." Her finger paused on the small blot of silver in the middle of a leaf. "You must greet Estel for me."

"Assuming he has traveled to Imladris."

Her eyes were filled, in that moment, with all the wisdom of all the elves. She could have been compared for that single instant to Elrond, and he would not have known who to call wiser. But she said nothing, merely touched his cheek in a farewell, and left the room. 

He did not see her again before he left, for she was kept quite busy, and Lemarha clung to him, asking him to tell him all about Imladris when he returned. In annoyance he mounted his horse before she could detain him longer, setting out briskly, ignoring the look on her face when he failed to kiss her goodbye. 

They rode quickly, arriving not long after several others. 

"Legolas!" a voice called. 

He turned and was welcomed enthusiastically by Aragorn. He started to open his mouth, when the man interrupted.

"How is Salan?"

"She bid me send you her greetings."

Aragorn shook his head, his eyes clouding. "That elf has never ceased to amaze me."

Legolas studied the aging face and eyes. "Then something has happened, which threatens all of Middle-Earth."

Aragorn nodded briefly, but they were cut off by a joyful, laughing reunion. Aragorn chuckled. "Hobbits," he murmured in explanation. "Frodo, Sam, Merry, Pippen, and the eldest is Bilbo."

Legolas's brow rose. "Bilbo Baggins, perchance?" he asked softly. 

Aragorn looked at him in surprise, but nodded. "One and the same."

Legolas chuckled softly. "Then I must meet the hobbit."

Aragorn lifted a brow but led him over, the hobbits looking up in surprise, a grin coming to their small faces for Aragorn. "Hello Strider," Sam said.

"Good day, Samwise," Aragorn returned. 

Bilbo looked at Legolas in confusion when Legolas crouched down so he could look at the hobbit eye-to-eye. Legolas smiled slightly. "Salan will be delighted to hear you not only live, but do so in Imladris."

Bilbo blinked in surprise, frowning at once.

Legolas chuckled softly. "I am a great friend of hers, one she has long since had a hard time hiding anything from. She and I alone know, though."

Bilbo let out a sigh of relief. "That is good to know. I would hate to have gotten her in trouble."

"She manages quite well on her own," Legolas agreed.

Aragorn was chuckling softly by then. "Another one who has met Salan, and found it impossible to forget her, I see." He frowned at Legolas. "I must say, I do not understand why you let that _lady_ cling to you when you have such a she-elf as a friend."

"Father wishes me to marry, has since I was a thousand years old. Allowing her to cling keeps me free of such ensnarement."

Aragorn's eyes clouded, thinking of Arwen. "Do you not hurt her, Legolas?" he asked, having switched his tongue back to elvish before speaking to Legolas about Salan. 

"She wishes to be a princess." There was no true love between them, despite the long years he had spent dancing with her. 

Not long after that they were called to the council. One of the dwarf names sounded familiar to Legolas, and a moment later he had it placed as one of those Salan had told him was traveling with Bilbo. Or the other way around. Still, a dwarf was a dwarf, and the slight glare the short, clunky beings sent him was enough for Legolas to withdraw into the aloof shell so many mortals have accused elves of having. 

Still, he burst free to come to Aragorn's defense, the man quietly asking him to sit down, and so release the matter. After a while he did, but he had no love for the man, that Boromir of Gondor who looked at Aragorn, his rightful king, as if he had crawled out from under a slime covered rock. 

When it was decided a group would go to Mordor, he recalled Salan's words as she touched his bow, and was offering it before he rightly knew what he was doing. He never regretted it though, despite the many trials he faced after that. 

As the only elf, it would have been more trying except for having already known Aragorn and Gandalf, and his connection, however indirect to Bilbo, which quickly had endeared him to the hobbits. The remaining two members of the fellowship he could have just as gladly gone without. 

All through Moria he thought of the stars, of stories his nana had told him, of the way Salan's eyes had widened when she saw the spider behind him. That one didn't help much, keeping him hyper alert, even for an elf. How he hated caves! So dark, foul, and in this case, orc infested. Grimness settled into him as he missed the light, but he continued on.

The only time he wavered was when the realization of Gandalf's death sunk in as they stood outside of Moria. He had tried, over and over again through the years, to grasp death, but it is not in the nature of elves to know death with the simple acceptance mortals attribute to the passing of their family and friends. 

In Lothlorien, his temper from his early youth got the better of him for a moment, but Aragorn's voice reminded him not only of his age, but the elf who had helped snap him away from being a true spoiled brat, and he suffered himself to be blindfolded alongside the dwarf until word came that they could be unbound. 

The beauty around him made him wish Harlyn and Salan were beside him, for he could never find adequate words to describe it to them. He could speak for years and still come up short. Speaking of short, the dwarf was having a hard time keeping his jaw off the ground, especially when they came into the presence of the Lady of the Golden Woods. 

When her eyes searched his, he was reminded of Salan, of the intense gaze she turned on all those she came into contact with. The difference was Galadriel used it as a true connection, searching his mind, and then speaking to him, her voice a soft whisper overriding all his thoughts. _Why do you search for that you have always had? The richest joy is found in the truest love, which is often so much a part of oneself it may go unnoticed._

_A life mate I have found not, _he replied in his mind.

_You have the eyes of our people, Legolas of Thranduil, but you have failed to see what has always been before you._ Her eyes turned away from his before he would have withdrawn, for Salan had built his ability to withstand such a probing glance, leaving him to wonder about not only Galadriel's words, but the quest now that Gandalf was gone. 

Missing Salan and her way of knowing and sharing how to deal with she-elves and their words, he looked to Aragorn, but the man was drawn into his thoughts. The hobbits were still mostly silent for their loss, leaving Gimli or Boromir to comfort him by the mere presence of someone else. 

Seeing a hint of the hunger in Boromir's eyes he had in Gollum's, the choice was not a hard one, and before long the dwarf was looking up to him all the time. 

~*~ Soft laughter interrupted the story for a while, for the dwarf looked up to all elves once they were about seven years old, literally speaking, at least. ~*~

As they left Lothlorien with their gifts, Legolas noted the way bread with a faint smile, thinking about Salan's old habit of putting some in his quiver. So thinking, he laid his new quiver into the bottom of the boat, frowning to see a leaf there. Withdrawing it, his head snapped to the Lady who stood upon the shore, lifting her hand in a farewell. A faint smile was upon her face, shining in her eyes along with the wisdom none who saw her could deny she possessed. _Her thoughts are with you as well, young prince. _

He smiled slightly and went back to speaking with Gimli. 

Worry grew in his mind as the quest continued, not because Boromir died, no, that loss was covered amply by the return of Mithrandir as a white wizard, but because something felt wrong…. Missing. Like something he had always had was slipping away. You might liken him to a man beginning to go deaf or blind. He knows something is not as it was, but he has not lost enough of it for him to be sure just what it was he was missing. 

Still, it troubled the prince greatly, though the times they were in allowed him to shove such thoughts from his mind most of the time. 

Not all of the time, though, and he felt some of his maturity seep away once in a while, even as Aragorn grew ready to become king. Thinking he had merely been around mortals for too long, he welcomed Elrohir and Elladan when they came with the rangers, but he continued to feel off balance, though he regained enough to keep up at least the appearance of stability that was expected of all elves. 

Though he had spoken to Gimli about bringing some of his people to Fangorn, he dared not do such a thing without knowing why he felt so odd. Perhaps, he decided as he began riding north after Aragorn was king and Arwen had been made his queen, perhaps he just needed to be home for a while. After all, it was the longest time he had ever been away. 

His original idea, when he had first felt this feeling, was that it was merely the call of the ring, but the ring had been destroyed, taking Gollum and poor Frodo's finger and joyful hobbit spirit with it. 

Now his heart ached, in part because Galadriel had been right about the sea, and he now wished to cross, but mostly for whatever he was missing so terribly. Aragorn had started to ask him to stay longer, but something in his eyes had paused the man for a moment. Aragorn instead sent him on his way the next morning with a fine horse, telling him to make haste. 

So he traveled home, wanting to see his father, mother, brother, sister, niece and Salan, wanting to know they were all right, because if they were, he thought he would be well once more. Even as the paths of Mirkwood seemed almost to welcome him, his thoughts were of the elves he had left behind, and every step his horse took seemed intolerably slow, for every terrible thing that might had happened hounded his mind, clouding his thoughts even though he knew it was irrational. __

_What if there had been a spider on one of Alina and Salan's walks in the forest? Salan had fought a spider before, but Alina had nearly been killed by one, and would be too scared to be of any more help than he had been. _

_Or orcs.__ Because of the destruction of the darkness, they would have been moving without direction, without leadership and with the sole purpose to kill and destroy. How could a few elves stand against such unwarned?_

At the back of his mind Legolas knew such concerns were late in coming, for anything going to happen because of the destruction of the ring had already happened. That knowledge did not still his heart from racing, nor his tongue from calling to his horse, urging more speed on their way. 

He was welcomed at once, and many elves rode with him to the palace, assuring him his family was alright. He closed his eyes in relief at the words, but soon opened them again, needing to see for himself that those he loved were safe. He was taken immediately to the throne room, and for once he heard the servants whisper obviously about him without annoyance. 

He didn't see what they did, or he would have been surprised. Legolas had faced the greatest evil the world had seen, but instead of being marred by the darkness, he shown ever brighter, his light sweeping forth from him in almost tangible waves, a flame in his eyes as he moved to see that his family was all right that none around him could bear to be pierced by. Legolas had returned as a warrior, but not a warrior prince. He was now truly a king in his own right, and there were even those who believed he surpassed Thranduil as he stalked into the hall.

Certainly the sight of him startled several even there, those who had seen the promise of great leadership within him, for it had been released, his eyes raking over them in rapid succession, pausing only when his gaze fell upon his sister. Then his eyes softened slightly, seeing she was well. His gaze passed then to his mother, his father, his empty chair, and his brother, beside whom sat his brother's wife and his niece, who was already racing forward, a broad smile upon her face as she reached up, touching his cheek. 

He returned the touch with a smile, then gazed quickly around the room once more. Not seeing Salan, he looked back at his family, greeting them all warmly, seeing nothing wrong in their eyes, though the way they looked at him he knew he must have changed. 

"Did you miss me?" a voice asked behind him. 

He blinked in surprise when he turned, seeing Lemarha. She threw her arms around his neck, kissing him, but he was stiff, frowning slightly when she withdrew, surprise on her face at his complete lack of response.

"Legolas?" she asked.

He frowned at her, slowly shaking his head. He was only partly aware of the people around them, just enough so he drew her out into the hall. "It won't work, Lemarha."

"What won't?" she asked in a small voice.

"Us. You want nothing more from me than my title, and I want nothing from you."

She bit her lip and was about to offer a protest about loving him, but as she looked up into the stony face of the warrior before her, the brilliant flame of his eyes, she found a complete and total stranger, one who intimidated her, though he did not intend to. It was not long at all before she turned and fled, her dressy cape waving behind her. 

A muscle twitched in Legolas's jaw as she ran away, feeling no regret but for not having done it sooner. To pretend had been wrong on both parts, and he was done with walking the line. He had changed. When he returned to the throne room, several eyes were scattered away, and finally all except family was dismissed, letting Legolas enjoy his family as he had wished for so many days and nights. 

Soon, though, he grew slightly restless as Salan never entered. Thranduil looked at his son, saw the power released at last from the hold childhood had kept upon it, and took pity upon him. "Go prepare for dinner, Legolas."

Legolas smiled faintly and bowed his head, striding quickly down the halls, not bothering to stop at his room to be sure his weapons had been lain there. He knocked on the door he had made for, listening for the sounds of life within.

"Enter."

He smiled, closing his eyes at the pleasure of falling back into routine so easily, opening the door. He stopped after automatically closing the door, paused by the sight before him. Salan's hair, which had been nearly to the floor when he left, was now just to her waist, and she was brushing it with measured strokes, her eyes not focused on her task. 

She looked up, a slight smile on her lips as she rose to greet him, laying her hand against his cheek. He closed his eyes once more, tilting his head into the touch. He opened his eyes and looked at her, saw her taking him in, gauging the changes in him much as his family had, but her eyes were not surprised as she did so. Her smile grew as they regarded each other in complete silence. The warning bell was sounded for dinner, giving him just enough time to change before the meal, so he slowly backed up, soaking up her smile and the welcome home he found in her eyes. 

With lighter steps than he had managed in a while he returned to his room, changing quickly for the meal, releasing his hair from the braids he had kept it in for ease. He frowned slightly as elves seemed startled by the sight of him, for by now everyone knew he had returned, hadn't they? 

Salan was already in the dining hall, along with all of his family except for Nalinalla. She frowned at the empty place where Lemarha had sat, then glanced at him, reading in his eyes that he had dismissed her. A frown touched her brow for an instant, but she said nothing, turning her attention to the dancers as the celebration began. 

Legolas found himself watching her, for he felt he had not seen her before. When had she ceased to be the annoying little tag along who had kept her hair in braids? Long ago, he knew, but he had never truly _seen _the change, though he had been aware of it. Her hair shown coppery in the firelight, her eyes glowing even as they remained fathomless, the stars shimmering within them, reminding him of Galadriel, just as Galadriel had reminded him of her, he suddenly recalled. 

The memory brought with it Galadriel's words. 

Legolas sat back in his seat, trying to move his eyes from Salan, but finding he was always drawn back to her, usually realizing he had been staring before he realized he had let his eyes travel back to her once more. He had not thought of Lemarha once after Aragorn had brought her up. Salan he had thought about more often than some of his immediate family members. He had thought it utterly natural, because it was for him. 

She had always been right in front of him, but he had never seen her. Not as she truly was. He had seen a friend, a seamstress, someone who could be counted on to give advice, to get him out of tight spots and provide a bright spot, a ray of light in an otherwise gray day. He had failed to see she was _the_ bright spot, the single star in his night that shown above all others. 

When she had nearly been taken to the grey havens, the world had ceased to make sense for those moments before it was resolved. How could they take her away? They couldn't, not without doing serious harm to him. 

Legolas frowned at the wine goblet before him as the music continued, not knowing anything except the that the revelation and confusion vied within him for attention.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"NOOOOOOOO!!!!!" 

"NANAAA!"

"Please continue," the eldest requested, hitting her siblings on the back of their heads even as she tried to sound like an adult. "Please?"

"Tomorrow shall be soon enough," I decided, enjoying their looks almost as much as I did telling the story. I needed time to consider how to word the next section, after all. "Now go on to bed, children."

They took that as reasonable remonstration and slowly slunk out of the room, though two of them had their arms folded crossly over their chests.

"That was cruel, nana," a familiar voice murmured. "How will they sleep tonight?" their mother asked, coming into the room from behind me.

"The same way you did when you were listening to my stories."

She laughed brightly, her hair glinting in the copper light of the struggling fire. "By forcing myself to remember night comes more quickly again if you sleep through the current one? You are cruel, nana," she repeated, bending to kiss first one, then the other cheek. "From their father," she explained. "With the wish your dreams wind to pleasant memories."

"They always do. I have too few unpleasant ones for it to be otherwise."

She laughed again, leaving the room as the fire gave up its fight, succumbing to let the silver light of the stars pour through the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Well, maybe that'll hold all of you for a while… ;} I actually survived the week, and got a fairly long chapter written! Now I just have to get it uploaded… I have the hardest time getting the site to take my commands without saying please try again in a few minutes… or cannot display page. That's the annoying one. 

I don't think there will be a whole lot more—probably no more than three chapters… we're getting to the home stretch. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not… Anyway, hope you all enjoyed it and understand why I didn't want to rewrite the entire quest. It's not like you don't know what happens. ; } And if anyone really, really hates the movie, I'm sorry! But I've read the book once and seen the movie way too often.

Eventually you will know who the children's parents are, I promise. 

To one and all: There's the great revelation for you… sort of, since he's still flaming confused! Tune in next time… 


	11. A Single Question

"Please please please please please please please please please please please pleeeeeaase tell us the story now," the youngest pleaded as they hurriedly entered the room. "Please?" he repeated, as if I hadn't heard him before. He had started while coming down the hall.

"I won't say a word until you are all settled."

They dropped into place, the middle child sitting on the floor while her siblings laid on the bed, all watching me expectantly.

"Are you all comfortable?" I asked, drawing it out as long as I could.

"Nana," the eldest murmured, the word just short of a whine, rolling her eyes to try and assure me she knew what I was doing. 

I had to smile, for in the tale of Legolas she had forgotten her attempts to become a proper lady. "Very well. Legolas excused himself from the celebration…."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Confusion began to win, doubts building in Legolas's mind as he thought about Salan and the way his spirits had lifted just by seeing her. She was the last one of those he had worried about that he had seen, after all, so couldn't it have just been that? 

When the night had worn on enough that the days' travels combined with the tiring worry from the previous weeks caught up with him, he excused himself quietly, moving as unobtrusively from the hall as he could, not knowing he had gotten better at that while he was away. 

Salan had caught him frowning from time to time, a slight haunted look in his eyes. She left not long after him when she had the chance, frowning to herself as she thought about that look, wondering what it was and what it meant. She had heard, through the rumor mill, about his return before he had even entered the palace, but she had been sure she would greet him improperly in front of Lemarha if she went to the throne room after his long absence, so she decided not to go, waiting instead for him to come to her. 

Her breath had caught in her throat when she felt him watching her from the door, his soft scent of forests and rain proceeding him into the room. It had taken her a moment to gather the courage to look at him, to see if what was said about him was true.

It was. He had become the King he was born to be, strength and power radiating from him in waves that slipped over her, thrilling her as she knew he had truly grown up. At the same time, though, it saddened her, for her playmate of old was gone forever, not to be seen again. 

Perfection was all she could say about the look in his eyes when she had seen them, for there was that new, unfamiliar power shining where before only the beginning glimmers had shown on worth while occasions, combining with the soft warmth telling her he had thought about her while he was gone. 

The stars knew she had thought about him. 

After all, he was the one closest to her in Middle-Earth…

Salan sighed softly and forced her mind back to the look that was haunting him, the look she had never seen in him before. She had seen many looks in her life, on many different elves, from fear that nearly equaled death and the fear of death, all the way to the strongest love seen among elves. But never such a haunted, hunted look. Which of course worried her, though she had no reason to be anything more than generally concerned for her friend, for his true strength assured he would most likely be fine, would recover with or without interference from her, from whatever it was that troubled him. 

Assuring herself she would figure it out someday, and that she was in no hurry, she stretched out on her bed, slowly letting her eyes become unfocused, the soft patterns of colors swirling away from her consciousness as she began wandering into dreams without knowing that down a few halls, through a corridor on the other side of the east wing of the palace, an elfin prince was trying to do the same without success. 

His thoughts kept pulling his mind back to her, his mind too frantic trying to come up with the elusive pure truth—ideas and concepts swirling too quickly on such circular paths he was back where he began seemingly before he started—that he could not force it to sleep, even as the moon began to sink in its path. 

Salan suddenly bolted awake, her feet touching the floor before she had blinked to clear the dream fragments from her eyes. She was still dressed, since she had merely lain back to fall asleep, which was a good thing, because she was entirely unaware of anything as she ran from her room and down the halls until she was throwing open a door to the room it had been many long years since she had entered without knocking.

Legolas's head snapped around at the sudden intrusion, taking in the wide eyes which caught the embers of the fire, the flush on her cheeks and in her ears as she took rapid breaths. "Salan?" he asked softly with a frown as he swiftly got to his feet, "What is it?"

She looked at him, searching his eyes for he knew not what, before suddenly sinking down to the floor, drawing her knees to her chest, rocking herself ever so gently. He found himself in front of her before she had finished the initial action, shaking her shoulders slightly when she didn't answer. She took a shaky breath and lifted watery eyes to his, touching his cheek with a single finger, tracing down the curve of his jaw. "You feel the call," she whispered, a silvery tear trailing down her cheek as she whispered the words that were nearly a death sentence to any elf who wished to remain on these shores.

He had forgotten about that, the confusion of thoughts and emotions tumbling through him was so intense that he had not felt the call truly as anything other than a background annoyance, left out of consciousness like the sound of a brook nearby while one sat and read a great tale of adventure. He drew a deep breath and let it out in a sigh, easing his grip on her shoulders. "Yes. I stood on the shores of the sea, and have felt it since."

Salan's eyes were wide and worried. "How long will you remain here?"

With a frown he made himself more comfortable before her, his hands shifting from her shoulders to lightly hold her hands. "I cannot say. I do not plan to leave Middle-Earth that soon. As long as Aragorn lives, at least, I shall remain." He thought again about his plans, his noble aspirations of which the mere thought of could keep the call at bay. "I was in Fangorn forest, Salan. The things we could learn there… the very thought excites me."

"Then you do mean to leave Mirkwood," Salan murmured, seeing the shimmer of enthusiasm in his eyes. 

Hesitating for a moment, he sought to explain it to her in a way she would understand what he wasn't entirely sure of himself. "The stories of Fangorn are not true. It is so old my father would feel young within it, such as did I, unlike I had since beginning the journey that brought us there." He frowned at a spot on the floor. "I said even then that in times of peace I could have been happy there. I believe that to still be true."

"And a king needs a kingdom," she murmured, seeing the change in him even as he sat on the floor, his clothing and hair disheveled, his silver-blue eyes too bright for thinking too hard, too fast and too long. 

A frown once more hid his eyes in shadow, but looking at her now, he knew the answers to all the questions that had plagued him for so long. "Would you see them?" he questioned softly, uncertain of the asking for fear of the answer.

"Travel to Fangorn?" she asked, astonished at such an idea.

"The wood is not far from Lothlorien. You could see the Golden Wood as well. It would have to be soon, or the Lady will have made the crossing, but you must see the mellyrn trees in spring. You know the stories and songs probably better than do I. Does the thought not intrigue you?"

To see the Golden Woods? Lothlorien? The realm of Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn? She had never been beyond Mirkwood, and the thought of leaving frightened her now even as it had when her parents thought to take her with them as they passed to the undying lands. "Legolas, I have never left Mirkwood! How could I go there?"

"Every journey begins with a single step, little one. You could go to Gondor, to Minas Tirith to see Aragorn on his throne, and meet Arwen—Elrond's daughter, and Aragorn's queen. I know he would welcome you, and Arwen has undoubtedly heard of you."

With the excitement burning in his eyes it was hard not to feel an answering desire, but her fear remained. "I could not simply _go," she protested, choosing to ignore his hint about Aragorn._

"Why not?"

"I…I simply cannot walk out and go there! I don't know the way, and my archery is really not good enough for such a journey," she was grasping for anything that would keep her safely in Mirkwood.

Legolas smiled faintly, seeing she had completely missed the point. "Mine is, though, and the times are better than when I last left. The way should be pretty safe, and it ends well away from Mordor."

"You would be going?" A slight frown drew her brows together.

"Of course. I have already promised Gimli I would see him shortly, and Aragorn expects me to visit as well."

"The dwarf?" she asked in amazement. 

He smiled crookedly. "I know, but you shall have to meet him. Though no one could ever replace you, he is… an endearing creature, really. He looks up to the elves, at least since meeting Galadriel."

"You met Galadriel?"

He laughed in delight, for he could almost feel her leaning over to the side of going. "I have quite a story to tell, I see."

"I see it as well. Pray tell, my King, pray tell." She adjusted her position so she was comfortably waiting, and listened to the entire tale, for Legolas left very little out, mostly the things Galadriel had said and some of his own fears. He spent more time on the woods, but that was only natural, for ever story teller keeps their audience in mind, and Salan had always been and would always be a wood-elf… even beyond her birth title of Mirkwoodian elf. Her eyes were shining with the glow of things unseen when he finished, and she looked down at her hands, feeling rather silly for remaining in Mirkwood for so long when there were such wonders to behold elsewhere. "Why did you return, if things were so beautiful?" she asked as she studied the Galadhrim bow he had been given at the departure of the fellowship from Lothlorien. 

He smiled, taking in the wonder in her eyes, knowing full well he had won, as long as he did not rush her now. He paused a moment to decide how to go on, finally choosing some caution, though he had never been one to back down from a challenge. "I missed my family, and I missed you. I had to come back, to see what I was missing, to decide once and for all if I wished to move to Fangorn until I heed the call."

"Have you decided?"

"It all comes down to a single question, really, though I could be happy here as well as there."

"What is that?" she asked softly, laying the bow aside reverently. 

"Would you go with me?"

A frown brought her brows together, and she lowered her gaze to her hands, twisting them together before forcing them to go still as he touched the backs lightly with his fingertips. "Is that the question it all comes down to? Because it seems an inconsequential one."

"It has become very important to me."

She shook her head. "It is not. You could order me to go with you, and I would. I am yours to command, my lord Legolas."

He shook his head right back at her, lifting her head with a knuckle under her chin. "I do not command you, I never have."

"You left a prince, you returned a king. Where a prince may not command, a king may." 

He shook his head once more, getting to his feet, turning his back to her, trying to keep his hands from forming fists as he found a sudden desire to shake her until she understood rushing through his veins. "I shall never command you."

"Then you do not wish my company to Fangorn?"

"I do, very much." He would not be able to leave her behind. If she didn't go, neither would he. Except for visits to his friends, of course.

"Then why do you not command me? It is your right."

"I wish to know if you would join me willingly, as the one closest to me."

Salan frowned and got up behind him, moving so she could see his stony face and set jaw. She got caught in the slight coppery glow his hair let off in the candle light, but the conversation's serious tone retrieved her before long. "Lemarha was in that place until you returned."

He snorted, a very un-kingly thing to do, and shook his head. "You know that is not true. She was never more than a slight friend, barely more than an acquaintance. When I arrived earlier, she no longer knew me. She fled from my very presence. My family, even, looked into my eyes as if I was a strange elf, someone they had never met. You, though, you saw what they saw, accepted it as if you have been expecting it, without surprise, without fear as I have also seen since my return. It was not Lemarha's words that had me offering my bow for the fellowship, it was not her voice I heard singing the tales of the stars as the time in Moria grew ever darker, it was not her I wished to have beside me when I explored Lothlorien."

"It was a dwarf," she murmured, trying to lighten the moment, because she was sure what she thought was hearing was not what he meant to say.

"How did you know me? When no one else did, why did you accept me without surprise?"

She looked at him then, her eyes clear as she finally answered. "Because I have seen this in you for many years, Legolas. It was merely a matter of time before you let go of your childhood and became the king you were born to be. You did so as you were away, at the same time severing the connection we had."

Legolas met those eyes without turning away as he would have before, when he simply was not ready to see what wisdom she held. "I do not miss it," he stated simply, catching her chin in his hand when she dropped her gaze. He lifted her head and continued speaking despite the pain he found in her eyes for his quick dismissal of their friendship. "For what I find within myself for you now is so much stronger, so much more compelling that I simply do not wish for things to return to the way they were. I cannot move to Fangorn if you do not accompany me and stay at my side as you have for so long, though you restricted yourself to the shadow my title cast."

"Legolas," she protested, turning her head aside. "Do not release your senses! What you are saying is madness!"

"Why?" he asked at once, for once he had gotten around his own feelings, his mind had tackled the problem before him with a rapidity that surprised him, puzzling pieces into place until he felt he must have been either a child or a fool not to have seen what was now so clear. Maybe he had been both, a foolish child, for to call himself one or the other did not seem harsh enough for what he had inadvertently done in his blindness. 

"We are friends."

"We are more, and could be even more than that."

"I do not wish a lover," she spat, turning aside, starting to walk out, but his hand closed over her arm, stopping her before she made it a step away from him.

"You never have, have you? Why is that?"

She went still beneath his hand, not looking up at him. "You were foolish enough in that way. If I have never been interested in being a wife, why should I be tempted to be a lover? Left behind after a night… or two, if I'm one of the lucky ones?"

He closed his eyes, feeling the backlash of his foolish years more keenly that he would ever have dreamed possible. After all, the blow was delivered by the one friend who had always stood by him, no matter his idiocy. Knowing why she sought to hurt him was the only thing that gave him strength enough to press on. "You have called me your king," he stated softly, retaining his grip when she tried to jerk free, "why does it surprise you when I claim to wish to have a queen?"

"That would not surprise me at all, but a queen I can never be."

"Why not?"

"I am a mere wood-elf, Legolas. You cannot change that."

"Your blood matters little to me."

"You cannot say the same for your father, however."

"He has waited millennia for me to find a bride. At this point in my life I think he would be content with whatever I brought before him as long as it was female and breathing, if I was happy. For most of our lives, you have been the only one who could always make me happy, could bring joy into my heart."

She stubbornly shook her head, her hair brushing over his arm even as she tried again to free herself. "You cannot confuse a friend with a mate, Legolas. Your friend I shall always be, but nothing more. Never anything more," she repeated as he tightened his hold, tempted again to shake her.

"You already are more! It was you I missed most, you I could not resist returning to see. It was the sight of you that helped alleviate the call to the point that I had forgotten of it until you recognized it." 

"No!" she backed away, her eyes wide and beginning to go wild. "I will not be a replacement for Lemarha!"

"I am most glad to hear that," he informed her, frowning slightly at the fear in her eyes. "Why does this frighten you so?"

"Because it isn't real, Legolas. You have been gone for the longest amount of time you ever have been from home, and you changed at the same time. You think those you left behind have changed as well, but it is not so. You will understand that in a while. Give yourself time to readjust to elves."

He released her with a sigh, but held her with his eyes for a while longer. "I shall give the time you desire, but I will not change my heart, and one cannot ever return to ignorance." Denial built in her eyes, so he placed his fingers lightly over her lips. "You have cut deeply enough tonight, as I believe I have as well. We will give it time." He nodded slightly, agreeing with himself that time would be what she needed. 

As for Salan, as soon as he released her she raced away, shutting herself in her room, sinking against the door and sliding to the floor as soon as the door had closed, wrapping her arms around her knees as the sobs that had been shaking through her welled up in her throat, released in a tormented torrent of tears.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Time for bed," a male voice declared, poking his head in the door, his hair lit silvery gold by the starlight.

"Father!" three voices complained. 

He grinned crookedly. "Good story?" he asked, a teasing light sparkling in his eyes, for he undoubtedly knew quite well the story I was telling them, and had probably interrupted when he had on purpose. "Come on. Say good night to nana."

"Good night, nana."

"Father, couldn't we just—"

"Say good night," he insisted, his eyes compelling his youngest to sigh and mumble the words before he kissed my cheek and followed his sisters in their path. When they had trailed out, he turned, the sparkle glowing again. 

"Now who is being cruel, child?"

He laughed softly, bending to kiss my cheek. "I learned from the master," he asserted with a mock bow, before winking and walking quickly from the room, pulling the door closed behind him. 

I couldn't help but chuckle, remembering how he had wished he could have interrupted his father's stories, since his father interrupted his. He was getting his revenge, in a round about way, since sending them off to bed a bit early assured the three children would wake earlier, harassing their grandfather, who loved it even though it sometimes overwhelmed him. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who reviewed! You finally get a tiny bit of the children's father in this one. Next chapter coming by next Saturday (NOT tomorrow… SORRY!). 


	12. And the Flame Succumbs to the Stars

The eldest marched in, paced around the room for a moment and then dropped down onto the bed. She let out a growl of frustration before crossing her arms over her chest, looking so much like a ticked child I couldn't help but lift a brow at her.

"Father!" she spat in answer. "He won't allow me to attend the dance since I still come to hear your stories."

"No adult elf does," I counseled softly.

She frowned. "But I can't leave in the middle of a group of stories!" she protested. "Especially about Legolas," her eyes flashed with determination. 

I sighed softly. "The story is almost finished, young one. And you will have an eternity to enjoy the dances. Youth you will not always have."

She sighed softly, recalling something she had heard from her mother, probably. "True, nana. Still, I am near enough to age, why must he make me remain in the sidelines?"

"Because you are still a child, no matter your age. He was a child for a long while as well." So he knew better than most when someone was still too childish… although I had to admit he was a bit overprotective of his daughters.

"Mother wasn't."

"No, but your mother was an unusual she-elf from very early in her life. I knew that even as she sat wide eyed before me, always in the same place, at the foot of the bed." Of course, I didn't mention she had done that because of the other elf I told stories to at the time… He was a bit of a brat, and always insisted on taking the bed for himself.

She sighed and laid down as her siblings entered, both steering clear of her even though the light of anger was draining from her eyes. "Let us continue the story, nana," she murmured at long last.

"As I said, there is not much left to tell…"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Salan avoided Legolas for nearly a month after the scene in his room, which hurt him deeply enough he did not look for her, letting her avoid him as she wished, staying mostly in his room as he had during their punishment many long years before. 

She was utterly miserable! 

You see, she had loved Legolas from early in her life, loved him as a female only loves her match, and was wise enough to know that simple truth. She had seen him dance with the ladies, and knew it was the right thing for him to do, but it had hurt her foolish heart anyway. From the day she realized she loved him she had known she could never have him, and had sworn she would never settle for any other elf, even though she was sure that was as good as making herself eternally single. 

Caring only for his happiness, she said and did nothing that she felt would let him know, for she was only truly alive and happy when she was with him, when he would smile at her with the warmth of a friend in his eyes. Anything she could do to help him, to make him smile, she would do, though it got her in trouble on occasion, and most of the time it was at the cost of another wound to her already battered heart. 

Legolas had never seen her as anything but a friend, though he often denied she was a mere wood-elf. Though his indifference hurt, she had never let herself think of being anything more than his friend, helping minimize the pain of being forever so close to something so desired, but forever held apart.

Watching as he began to change, the kingly parts within him slowly forming together as the time passed, she felt honored to be one of a select few to see it. Her love for him allowed her to see into him more clearly than anyone else, which was why she alone was not surprised when he truly 'grew up.' 

All of that was why she was so miserable. She had loved him so hopelessly for so long that his words had in the same moment given her impossible hope, yet had mocked her with that very emotion, for she was not strong enough in it to trust his heart would any more align itself with hers than it had with any of the more appropriate ladies he had met, charmed, and often seduced. The look in his eyes had thrilled and terrified her, for she knew the fear of having it go out. She had never once considered seeing it burn forever. 

Bluntly put, she was afraid to let him know of her feelings, for fear he would awaken in her all the dreams and hopes she had ruthlessly suppressed for so many years. If that happened and then he turned away from her as he had all the others, it would destroy her. Her heart would be broken, and she would fade into nothingness. So although Legolas had grappled with the concept of death, she had long ago mastered the idea, for her torturous heart had kept her on the edge of mortality, the grim specter Death hovering in the corners around her, just waiting for her to slip up and think of things she could never have. 

A sharp rap sounded on her door, and she called "Enter," with a heavy sigh. 

Harlyn entered, his eyes hard and angry as he studied her. "When did you decide you hate your king?" he asked, his tone harsher than she had ever heard it.

"What?" she asked, bolting upright in bed. 

"You are killing Legolas, which is wounding all of the family in turn. Why do you seek to destroy us?"

"I am doing nothing to Legolas," she protested, laying back down, disinterested as she sought to fall back into her own misery.

"I think, Salan, that that is the problem." Without any further warning than that he picked her up, blanket and all, and strode quickly down the hall, passing Legolas's room to enter using the secret path, setting her inside before shoving the door closed behind her, the lock being quickly secured. 

She wrestled loose of the blankets and then tried the handle for a moment, then let out a breath of annoyance and marched across the room, her hand jerking free of the handle with the force she tried to use on it, but it was already locked.

"Salan?"

She whirled around at the soft voice, watched as some steam rolled off his bare shoulders from his bath, his hair hanging in damp strings over his shoulders, a few sticking to his chest. She sighed in exasperation as her stupid heart began beating faster. "Harlyn locked me in here."

Legolas frowned and went to the door, first one, then the other. "So it seems," he agreed, still frowning. "Why?"

She could see why. The fierce light was fading from his eyes once more, though it glowed brightly when he gazed upon her. There was no denying he wanted her then, at least, though she was still not fool enough to call the look anything more than lust. 

At the same time Salan noted that, Legolas was studying her, seeing that she was perhaps worse off than he felt, for he still had his family, while hers had traveled to the havens. He sighed softly and moved to her, firmly cupping her face in his hands. "You love me," he declared fiercely, tired of allowing her the chance to kill them both. 

She shuddered and closed her eyes, but she had not been able to lie to him for many years. "Yes," she sighed softly, opening her eyes slowly after the admission.

The sorrowful look in his eyes stunned her, his words even more so. "You fear I will grow tired of you, will cast you aside as I have others." She didn't need to reply in words, for the lowering of her gaze was enough. His hands gentled on her cheeks, his thumbs lightly brushing the tips of her lashes as he pondered the right words for a few heartbeats. "It would be easier and far less painful for me to rip off every inch of my own skin. You are my night and my day, Salan. When I can live without water and air, not even then do I think I could survive without you."

Legolas kissed her forehead, felt her trembling softly beneath his hands. "Will you trust me with your heart?" he asked softly, watching her eyes, seeing so many conflicting thoughts and feelings written where usually all was hidden.

She closed her eyes, knowing that she could not deny him. Right then, at least, he wanted her, and she could not ignore the dying light in his eyes for wanting her. She shivered a little more, her choice already made even as she gathered the strength to declare it. "It is already yours," she managed in a ragged whisper before Legolas's eyes blazed and his mouth descended to hers. 

As the morning became afternoon, Salan's eyes blinked clear of sleep, finding smiling silver-sharded blue ones waiting for her with a soft kiss. She watched him for a moment, considered the position she was in. They were still entwined, something she had expected would change through time as they slept. 

"The doors are still locked, then?" she asked at last.

Legolas lowered his eyes from hers with a frown. "No. Harlyn has been in twice. The second time he brought lunch." He motioned at the tray on his dresser with a tilt of his head. 

"Then why are you still here?"

He sighed softly and kissed her forehead, knowing what she had expected to find upon waking. "I love you, Salan." He kissed her nose before moving to her lips and then her cheek, angling to her ear. "The one she-elf who didn't try to ensnare me is the one who has captured me entirely. Do but command me, my love, and I shall do what you wish, what ever it may be."

"All I wish," she breathed after a long while, "is to live. Can you manage that?"

"It is already done," he murmured with a smile, looking down at her. "Salan, my love, I could never leave you. It would be destroying myself." He cradled her face in his hands for a long moment, gazing into her eyes, seeing both uncertainty and fear there. "You have known me so much better than most for so long, do you let your eyes be blinded now?"

She swallowed and met his gaze, seeing in his bright eyes the flame of undying love, which she knew at that moment she could have seen at any time in the last month. Slowly the blockades she had built through the years, trying to keep him from seeing how she loved him, were swept away, never to be resurrected again. She reached up and cupped his face with her palms, smiling slightly as she brushed the tips of her thumbs over his ears, making him shudder before returning to claim her as his once more.

When they emerged from his room in the evening it was with a light-heartedness neither one had felt since Thranduil began pushing Legolas to marry. Before they entered the dining hall, Legolas drew her aside, pulling her tightly against him. "Will you stay with me forever?" he asked softly, his breath hot against her ear.

"Was that a marriage proposal, Legolas?"

"It was indeed, my love."

She smiled at his intent expression, wrapping her arms around his neck. "How could I refuse my king?" After accepting a tender kiss, she loosened her grip, ignoring the looks they were getting from passing elves. "Thinking of which, when do you wish to travel to Fangorn?"

Delight mingled with the joy in his eyes as he linked their hands together. "I had not thought on it, actually." He kissed her hand even as they walked into the hall. "Before or after? Which do you think?"

"If it is after, your father and family would have to travel to see Fangorn, and Aragorn and Gimli could be present. However, it is unlikely you could convince the hobbits to travel there again."

He chuckled softly and pushed her chair in for her, ignoring his parents and siblings for the first time since coming back. "Gimli would travel anywhere, even to a realm of elves if I give him time enough to do so. Aragorn would have trouble getting away at all, this soon after taking the throne and getting married. The hobbits I cannot speak for, for they have heard stories of Mirkwood and its spiders since they were mere lads."

"Then it is a tossup. I leave it to your judgment, since it is only your family who shall be able to attend."

"Ahem," Thranduil drew their attention away from each other. "Might I ask what you two are discussing with such complete disregard to the presence of others?"

Legolas chuckled softly, but it was Salan who answered. "Merely the wedding of your eldest son, Thranduil."

The king blinked and looked from her to Legolas. He saw the revived light in his son's eyes, and then noticed the grip he held upon Salan's hand. He chuckled softly. "Well, that is a definite reason for me to have refused her as my ward, is it not?"

It would not be right for an official ward and a child to marry. Legolas blinked in startled surprise, looking from Salan to his father. "You suspected this then?"

"I had suspicions." Thranduil's mouth twitched up into a smile as he turned to Salan. "As did your father, in fact, though your mother seemed to be utterly certain." Salan's eyes dropped as a slight blush colored the tips of her ears, knowing her mother had probably seen her love for Legolas before she had been aware of it herself. "You have their blessing, by the way, though they had hoped it would happen sooner than it has if they were right. In fact, I had pretty much forgotten your mother's certainty, it's taken Legolas so long to figure things out."

"I still moved faster than did you, Father," Legolas reminded him, smiling as he squeezed Salan's hand, silently reminding her that her fears about his father disapproving had been unfounded after all. 

"Perhaps, perhaps. But what is all this of Fangorn, and a dwarf?"

With a laugh Legolas told his father his desire to inhabit the wood for a time, taking with him whoever wished to go before they traveled to the grey havens. Though Thranduil was uncertain about accepting a dwarf into his halls again, especially when he heard it was the son of one of those which had so mysteriously disappeared nearly seventy years before, he accepted the proposed move with enthusiasm tempered only by the thought of loosing his eldest son to such distance. Still, the complete removal to the undying lands would not take long at all in the immortal scheme of things, so he would soon have them back near him. 

That is how it came to be that Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood and elven King of Fangorn, was married in the halls of his father's realm with several hobbits, a wizard, and a dwarf in attendance. Gimli and Gandalf argued over who would get to step in for Salan's father, so she chose Sam, who blushed through the entire thing, shifting nervously from foot to foot as long as he was required. 

The move to Fangorn was put off for a while, and when they finally departed Gimli traveled with them, his title of elf friend securely attached to him now. 

In Salan Legolas had found the love he had been blindly searching for, and a queen to stand beside the king he had become. Wise, understanding and possessing an over the top sense of true justice, along with a better grounding in the normal punishments for transgressions than he could claim for himself, she was the perfect counterpart, keeping him grounded while at the same time reminding him to dream on the stars. 

Not long after Aragorn, whom they had visited frequently, had passed away, they prepared for their own passing. Their passing, was of course, not to death, but the undying lands. Gimli went with them, leaving behind the wonders and riches of the caves he loved for another glimpse of the Lady Galadriel, who had helped secure his unusual passage. 

It was not until they came to the havens that Salan became pregnant with their first child, a girl who had her mother's eyes but her father's impatience for youth, annoyed by it while taking a long time to completely shed it. The next child was also a she-elf, her eyes glittering like turquoise as she began acquiring her mother's wisdom at nearly an equally early age, though she was playfully childish still, much like her mother continues to be. The third child was a boy, who is still too young to do much more than complain when their nana does not finish a story when he wishes it to be finished.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They all sent me droll looks, but soft applause came from behind me. "I suppose you aren't really going to make them guess, after all that, are you?"

I chuckled softly and shook my head, sending the children off to bed with a look they knew well. The all said their good nights to me before moving to their parents, who had entered via the door connecting my room to the study that was also connected to their room. It had been set up that way so they could hear where their children were, and could monitor their bedtime. It also allowed them to listen to my tales whenever they liked, without seeming to do so. "What did you two think of it?"

Legolas chuckled softly, burying his nose in Nalassen's coppery blond hair. "I don't know. What did you think, 'Salan'?" he teased.

She tilted her head back, her bright green eyes flashing in the firelight. "You never have learned to share," she teased back, one hand lifting to stroke his cheek, a finger trailing up tauntingly close to his ear. Then she dropped her hand back to where her other one rested over his, which were linked at her waist. "I think I shall never cease to be amazed by what she knows," she continued softly. Then her eyes sparkled, a self-satisfied smile crossing her lips. "But what will she tell our next child, since she has already told them our story?"

I smiled slightly at what I saw as unfounded optimism. "Three children is the most any in Legolas's line has ever had. Your family tends to stop at two, Nalassen."

"Maybe that is true, but I am not about to protest," she murmured, leaning her head back so her nose was against Legolas's throat. "Are you?" she asked, her voice a soft purr, her words angled to him, though not soft enough she had meant it to be a secret.

"Nala? Are you with child?" he demanded, turning her in his arms so he could see her face, a concentrated frown appearing between his brows. At her soft chuckle and broad smile he let out a whoop of joy before spinning her around in the air. He set her feet on the ground only so he could kiss her, his mouth trailing across her cheek to her ear as the mood shifted from delight to pure, tender love.

"You two have a room of your own, you know," I reminded them, getting two crooked smiles for my efforts before another gentle kiss was shared. Then they turned towards me at the same instant, offering their goodnights as they so often had as bickering children before they walked silently back to their room, hand in hand as the flames succumbed to the light of the stars.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Well, that's all there is… unless I should decide to go ahead and figure out Harlyn's Tale. I have an idea, it's just the whole do I want to mess with it thing.

So, Kaylee, does this work? So, I didn't kill him… though he admittedly came close. So did she. 

I know the whole endng was a bit sudden, but try as I might I couldn't come up with anything to drag the story out with at this point. Guess I'm not as cruel as nana, after all. 

Just to let you all know, another chapter will be up eventually—just an author's note and answering any questions that may be raised. It won't be an addition to the story… unless someone comes up with a fabulous way to make the ending a bit more drawn out… but if so, I'll change the summary. 

Thanks to everyone who reviewed, it's been great getting feedback from the same readers, helps me figure out what's up and what you guys want. 

Okay, off to update The Worry Stone.

Nea 


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